


A Tale of Two Magicians

by maddienole



Category: Cats - Andrew Lloyd Webber, Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats - T. S. Eliot
Genre: Angst, Autistic Mistoffelees/Quaxo, But Misto-Centric, Everyone Has Issues, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Family Drama, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mr. Mistoffelees is Quaxo (Cats), POV Multiple, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:40:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 70,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23138614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maddienole/pseuds/maddienole
Summary: When Macavity was banished from the tribe many moons ago, it was the last time the Jellicle cats thought they would see magic within their borders. That is, until Munkustrap stumbles across a tiny tuxedo kitten abandoned in the snow. Now, wounds will be reopened, relationships tested, and the fate of the Jellicle tribe may hang in the balance.
Relationships: Demeter/Munkustrap (Cats), Macavity & Mr. Mistoffelees, Macavity & Munkustrap (Cats), Mr. Mistoffelees & Munkustrap (Cats), Mr. Mistoffelees & Rum Tum Tugger (Cats), Mr. Mistoffelees/Rum Tum Tugger, Munkustrap & Rum Tum Tugger
Comments: 264
Kudos: 383





	1. Munkustrap

_Her name was Selene. Once a beauty in her youth, she now took an a rather disheveled appearance. Her fur was ragged and worn, dirt stains tarnishing her naturally white coat. She had fallen far from grace, from the life she had yearned for in her earliest days._

_She now found herself traversing the bitter cold, in the deadest of night. The wind nipped at her heels as they sunk deeper into the snow covered terrain._

_She wasn’t alone._

_She carried with her two bundles, her bundles. Selene had never planned to be pregnant, the thought of which revolted her. But that was not how life played out. The bigger bundle squirmed in her grasp. He was the more restless of the two, always moving, never resting. Never letting her rest._

_The smaller bundle had stopped moving, not long after she had left._

_He was a runt, they had told her. He wasn’t expected to survive. Selene wouldn’t be surprised if he was already dead._

_She panted, slightly out of breath. She had no idea where she was, but had found some minimal protection from the pelting snow under an agglomeration of trees and forestry._

_They will never find them here, she thought._

_She placed the bundles on the ground, watching as the bigger one wailed in protest. The smaller one remained silent. Motionless._

_“I’m sorry,” she said simply._

_She was._

_But no amount of maternal attachment would prevent her from completing her task._

_These kits couldn’t be allowed to survive. The danger they posed...it was unthinkable._

_It was a sacrifice Selene was willing to make._

_She turned her back to her children. No, her burdens, and stalked away without turning back. Hopefully the cold took them quickly. She didn’t like suffering, especially by her own paw. But sometimes it was necessary. And this...._

_This was a sacrifice she was willing to make._

#

“It’s cold.”

“Really Lonz? Couldn’t tell.”

“I’m _cold_.”

“Just a couple more minutes.”

“Why are we out here anyways?”

“The twins...”

“I _know_ what they said. But what are we even looking for?”

Munkustrap shrugged.

“I don’t know.”

“Then why...”

“‘I _don’t_ know,’” the Jellicle protector repeated.

Truthfully, Munkustrap didn’t fancy wandering outside the junkyard in freezing conditions any more than Alonzo did. Especially this early in the morning. But the Jellicle Tribe’s resident mystics, Coricopat and Tantomile, came into his den just before dawn to warn him of...something. They didn’t know what, or who, could be posing a threat. Or if it was even a threat at all. They just had a feeling that something was amiss. Munkustrap, of course, was of the nervous sort and promised them he would check out the area surrounding the junkyard in case anything was up.

He was regretting it now, he thought through chattering teeth. He missed the warmth of his den. But as the protector it was his _job_ to act as the first line of defense for the junkyard. He wouldn’t forgive himself if something was wrong and threatened the lives of his friends and family, especially if it was something he could have prevented.

He sighed, looking up at his second in command. Alonzo was shivering, looking quite discontent at the situation his superior had forced him into.

“Shouldn’t be much longer, Lonz,” he said. “I just want to make sure...”

“I know,” the black and white tom cut in. “But I’m taking a well deserved nap after this.”

Munkustrap chuckled softly.

“I may join you.”

The two toms continued their trudge. It was slightly warmer now that the sun was beginning to rise, but the weather was still in no condition for anyone to be making any extended field trips outside the warmth of their dens.

“Maybe we should split up,” Alonzo said after they reached a grove of trees. “Cover more ground.”

Munkustrap nodded silently.

A couple of minutes passed and the grey tabby saw nothing out of the ordinary. It was at that moment, however, that the eerie silence of the atmosphere was broken by the sound of....well.... Munkustrap wasn’t sure.

An animal perhaps?

It was quite high pitched and weak sounding.

Munk’s first thought was that the animal was injured. He followed the sound, trying to make a determination if it was safe to approach. He didn’t love the idea of coming face to face with a predator. The sound gradually softened.

Munkustrap tensed.

Was it dying?

Something about the sound just felt off. Actually, now that he was closer he concluded it didn’t really sound like any animal he knew. In fact, it sounded just like...

_No._

He ran as quick as his legs could take him.

“Lonz!” he yelled. “Alonzo!”

“What?” he could hear his second in command respond in the distance.

“I think there may be a kit out here! Can you come over to me?”

Munk looked around, sure that the noises he heard came from this area.

_It has to be around here somewhere._

Alonzo came bursting through the snow covered brush.

“A kit?” he panted.

“Yes.”

“But...”

“I _know_ what they sound like, Lonz.”

“I don’t doubt that. But who would leave a kitten out here?”

“I don’t know,” the grey tabby growled.

He trended the ground slowly, meticulously, Alonzo doing the same. He found nothing, no sign of a kit. No sign of...anything.

Some amount of time passed before his companion spoke up.

“Munk...”

“I know it’s here somewhere!” he interrupted. He couldn’t just give up now. Not with a life at stake.

“We just need to...”

“Munk!” Alonzo repeated.

He whipped around at his friend’s frantic tone.

“What?”

“I...I found him.”

He looked down to find a small furry bundle lying at Alonzo’s paws.

_No..._

He walked over slowly, afraid of confirming the inevitable. The kit wasn’t moving, its eyes closed.

“Is...is it...”

Alonzo nodded solemnly.

“I’m sorry Munk. I, well I almost stepped on him. He was half buried in the snow. Must’ve been dead for a while. There’s...nothing we could have done.”

Munkustrap shook his head.

“That’s not possible.”

“Munk...”

The Jellicle protector grasped his friend’s shoulders.

“I _heard_ a kit, Lonz. Just now. There...there must be another one out here.”

“Munk...”

“I _will_ find it.”

“Maybe we should...”

“You can go back!” he hissed, harsher than intended. “I’m not leaving.”

Alonzo sighed, realizing this was a battle that he wasn’t going to win.

“Okay. Let’s find the other one.”

And so they searched in shared silence, leaving no leaf overturned, no snowy patch of land uncovered. It wasn’t difficult work, but tedious. And with every passing minute, the Jellicle protector’s confidence plummeted even further.

Had he imagined the sound?

Had he...

He paused as a furry mass brushed his leg.

No, he hadn’t.

“Hello, little one,” he whispered.

The furry mass looked up at him, large brown eyes widening at the sight of another cat. He let out a soft squeak.

Munkustrap couldn’t help but smile.

The kit was...adorable. There was no other way to put it. He had the same markings as the other kit they had come across, leading him to believe they were siblings. But this one was much smaller. Too small, in fact.

The kit nuzzled Munk’s leg, purring contently.

_Poor thing is probably freezing._

Of course, the entire situation made little sense. If the two kits were siblings, they must have been left here together. But why is it that only one perished, especially the bigger one? Then, of course, was the fact that the bigger kit had been deceased for what looked like hours, meaning the smaller one must have been out in frigid conditions for just as long.

_How is he still alive?_

Munkustrap bent down and picked the tiny tux up.

“So, how _did_ you do it, then?” he asked softly.

The kit only blinked at him, too young to communicate.

_How can someone abandon him out here?_

It infuriated him. He wasn’t called the protector of the kittens for nothing. Every kit deserved a chance at life. A chance to grow into their own cat, to make a mark on the world. The thought of the other poor kit who didn’t make it through the night saddened him tremendously.

“Munk, I uh... I see you’ve found him?” Alonzo asked cautiously.

He nodded.

“It seems I have.”

His first officer studied the kit, who was beginning to fall asleep in Munk’s arms.

“He’s so...little. I mean... well, smaller than the other one. How....?”

“I don’t know, Lonz. I feel as though something unnatural has happened here tonight.”

Alonzo cleared his throat.

“So...are we taking him with us?”

Munk narrowed his eyes.

“I’m not leaving him out here,” he responded firmly.

Alonzo took a step back.

“That’s not what I meant. It’s just... I mean, is he going to be a part of the tribe?”

Munk looked down at the slumbering kit.

“Yes,” he whispered. “I think so.”

He closed his eyes briefly, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“Alonzo?”

“Yeah?”

“I need you to take the kit back to the junkyard. Give him to Jenny, she’ll know what to do.”

“What about you?”

He turned to look at his companion.

“I’m going to bury his brother.”

The black and white tom nodded solemnly as Munkustrap transferred the kit to him. The tiny tux let out a soft mew in protest, but didn’t wake.

“I think he likes you, Munk.”

_I think I like him, too._

He knew it was unwise to get attached, but it was just part of his nature. Munkustrap loved being able to love, every kit had a place in his heart. Even after they’ve grown, it didn’t make them less special to him. His brother would call him too emotional, which was entirely fair, but it was something so ingrained in his personality that trying to change it would essentially be trying to change who he was as a cat.

And if that happened, he shouldn’t call himself protector.

He watched Alonzo head back with the kit as he began digging a hole in the frozen soil.

There was work to be done.


	2. Munkustrap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grizabella tries out for the "parent of the year" award.
> 
> Meanwhile, Jenny plays matchmaker and kitten doe finally gets a name.

_According to Gus, the best singer to have ever graced the Jellicle tribe was Eurydice. If you had asked any member of the tribe about her now, one would find that few know of her at all. But for those that can recall her mesmerizing voice, her deep brown gaze, her free spirit, they would say that she had left the world a remarkably worse place than when she entered it. This, of course, through no fault of her own._

_Eurydice was born to Augustus and Geraldine, the only surviving kit of their fourth litter. While she had many older brothers and sisters, there were few playmates of her age. The kit’s talents manifested young, for it was said that she was an adept singer by just six months and a talented one by eight._

_She found a friend in Grizabella, later to be known as the glamour cat. Like Eurydice, Grizabella displayed a tremendous talent for vocal performance. But even more so, she yearned for a life on the stage, not for just herself, but for the both of them. It wasn’t enough to be praised and adored by the tribe. Didn’t the world deserve to hear their voices?_

_The two friends soon grew into two queens, and drew the eye of none other than Old Deuteronomy himself. Whispers ran abound, for the Jellicle leader had not taken a mate in many decades. The two queens must have really been special indeed._

_He decided on Grizabella in the end, she was considered better looking than her companion, and her jubilant personality outmatched Eurydice’s tendency towards shyness._

_Grizabella knew she couldn’t reject an offer from Old Deuteronomy and agreed to matehood. She, along with Eurydice, seemed the only ones unpleased with the arrangement. As mate to the Jellicle leader, she had certain duties to uphold, responsibilities to perform._

_Eurydice, starving for her friend’s company, began to spend more time wandering outside of the junkyard. She still yearned for greatness, for a stage in which to display her voice to the world. She couldn’t help but be jealous of her friend, who had enraptured the clan with both her personality and appearance. After all, Old Deuteronomy had chosen Grizabella over herself. Little did she know that the glamour cat envied Eurydice in return, for she was free to pursue her own interests, and not bound to a mate she didn’t love._

_Several moons had passed before Grizabella announced her pregnancy. The tribe was exuberant, for she was carrying Old Deuteronomy’s heir, and he would surely succeed his father when the day came. Little fanfare surrounded Eurydice’s pregnancy however, which had occurred at the same time. It would be impossible to know if the queens had planned it this way, or if it was simply coincidence, but they were both pleased to experience this stage in their lives together._

_Neither of them desired to be with child, thinking it quite an interruption in the pursuit of fame and glory. But Grizabella knew it was her duty to provide her mate with an heir, and found her current state to be of necessity to cement her position. Unlike her friend, Eurydice was tight lipped on who the father of her litter was. Rumors began to spread, accusing her of colluding with an outside force, of disloyalty, of treason._

_Grizabella stuck by her friend through all of it. They slept side by side through the harshest nights, through the frequent sickness that left Eurydice unable keep down food for more than several hours. She had gotten frailer the last couple of weeks, withering away to the point of being unable to stand. It was as if her body was punishing her for putting it in this state in the first place._

_When labor finally came, neither Queen was prepared, nor did they quite know what to expect at the end of it. Grizabella gave birth first, just as dawn began to break. She carried within her a single tom, a handsome kit with a light grey coat and dark tabby stripes. His father was pleased, naming him Munkustrap. That was a name fit for a future leader of the tribe._

_Eurydice did not have as easy as a time. Her body was weakened by lack of nutrients and every contraction was emotionally and physically crippling. Blood began to pool beneath her as the fellow Jellicle queens tried to force the kit from his mother before irreparable damage was done. It was dusk before her son was finally born, the second tom-kit to join the tribe that day. But Eurydice was not done yet. A second kit was born, a small she-kit with the same ginger coat as her brother. But she was born dead, her eyes would never open. It wasn’t long before Eurydice followed in her daughter’s pawsteps._

_Eurydice’s death affected the entire tribe tremendously. She was buried the same day, alongside her daughter. The secret of her kit’s parentage had died with her. They named the tom-kit Macavity, and he was taken in by the other queens to raise._

_It was Grizabella who took the news the hardest. The glamour cat could rarely be seen outside her den after the death of her dearest friend. Her tom-kit too suffered from his mother’s lack of attention and was soon looked after primarily by the other queens._

_She spent more and more time away from the tribe. Like her friend, the outside world intrigued her. The junkyard was restraining, limiting. The world was grand, and Grizabella felt the strain of being tied down to a place she felt a diminishing connection to after her only friend had passed._

_Her second pregnancy was harder than her first. The rumors began to spread, questioning the legitimacy of the kit’s paternity. For the glamour cat had spent many nights away from her mate, with no one to verify her whereabouts. Old Deuteronomy shut down the whispers immediately. Grizabella was his mate, the mate of the Jellicle leader, and should be treated as such._

_It didn’t help that the kit looked nothing like his older brother. His fluffy golden mane stood out in contrast to Munkustrap’s pale gray tabby coat. Her older son took to his younger brother immediately, something Grizabella could not say for herself. She had never bonded with her eldest child, and even now, he looked at her through the eyes of an acquaintance, not of her flesh and blood._

_She didn’t find herself caring much at all. Motherhood never suited her, it was more a requirement of her position. She wanted to be a star. She wanted her friend back. They were going to raise their children together, but Eurydice had left._

_It took all too long for Grizabella to realize that she should have left as well._

_And so she did._

#

Munkustrap was tired. The walk home was as long as it was painful. Hours of digging through hardened, compact soil took a toll on his paws, which left them bruised and bloody. He dug the hole as deeply as he was able, not wanting the kit to be found by scroungers and rats. The poor thing didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve any of this. Did he even have a name? A family? Munkustrap sighed, continuing his trek.

Everlasting cat, he was tired.

It was mid-morning by the time he reached the junkyard. Many Jellicles were still asleep. Others chose to spend the day with their owners. This was certainly okay with him, less cats to look after and less cats to look at him. Him and his sad, bloody paws. What he really wanted was sleep, but that would have to wait given the circumstances.

He made his way to Jennyanydot’s den, hoping Alonzo and the kit made it back alright.

“Oh, dear,” the tabby queen said when he entered. “You look a right mess.”

“Did Alonzo...”

“Of course.” She pulled some gauze out from her drawer, and reached for his paws.

“Now sit down and let me wrap them,” she said firmly.

“Where is he?”

She flicked her tail towards the corner of her den where the black and white kitten lay asleep, swaddled in blankets.

“Poor thing must be exhausted. He hasn’t woken up yet, not even to feed.”

Munkustrap winced as she tightened the gauze around his paws. Immediately he could see red stains bleed into the fabric.

“You’ve really done a number on your paws, you know.”

“Soil was hard,” he mumbled.

A moment of silence passed before he spoke again.

“But how is he, Jenny? I mean health-wise?”

The tabby queen shrugged.

“He’s slightly malnourished and looks to be suffering a bit from exposure, but that seems to be all.”

She finished wrapping his paws before discarding the unused gauze.

“It is amazing, really. Alonzo indicated that he had spent many hours outside in these conditions.”

“It seems to be that way, yes.”

Jenny shook her head.

“Unbelievable,” she murmured, mostly to herself. “He must be something special.”

“The twins...they came to me early this morning,” Munk started. “They seemed to think that something was wrong...or, I don’t know. They weren’t specific. Just that I should check outside the junkyard. I can’t help but wonder if this kit is what they were sensing. And if so, why? Don’t get me wrong, abandoning a kit is cruel, but it isn’t entirely uncommon. Why this one specific kit?”

Jenny sighed. “I don’t know. You’re asking me questions that are outside my capability of answering. Perhaps you should ask them when you have the chance?”

Munk nodded.

“I will. Though I doubt I will get a concrete answer out of them.”

“Regardless,” Jenny said. “At least he is safe. In the end, that’s all that matters.”

Munkustrap stood up and made his way towards the kit. He was shivering slightly, even though he was covered in blankets. Munk curled himself around the small tom, hoping he could draw from the larger cat’s body heat. It seemed to work as the tiny tux’s breathing evened out and the shaking stopped.

Jenny smiled.

“You are very good with them, you know. Have you considered having any of your own?”

Munkustrap chuckled softly.

“With who?”

“Oh, I can think of a few viable candidates, dear. Actually, since we’re on the topic, I know for a fact that Demeter...”

“Jenny!” Munk hastily cut in. “Honestly, I don’t have time for kits. Or for a mate. I have enough responsibility as it is already.”

He looked down at the tuxedo kitten snuggled in his side.

“And anyways,” he said, stroking the kit’s soft fur. “All kits are _my_ kits in a sense. I’m in charge of making sure that they are safe and protected.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t make time for yourself,” she responded gently.

He found he didn’t have an answer for her.

Several moments passed and the grey tabby could feel his eyelids drooping. Staying awake was getting harder by the minute as his exhaustion was catching up to him.

“Hey,” Jenny said sternly. “It’s okay to sleep for a bit, you know.”

“I have responsibilities...” he protested.

“That can wait. Now sleep.”

If circumstances were different, he probably would have argued more. But he was too tired to even do that. He laid his head down with the tuxedo kit still curled against him.

“Jenny?”

“Hm?”

“Wake me up in an hour.”

He could just make out a vague grunt of acknowledgement before sleep overtook him.

#

He was awakened by the sound of persistent mewling and the touch of tiny paw prints along his spine.

Munkustrap opened up his watery eyes, having to immediately squint to block the sunlight that filtered through Jenny’s den before he was blinded. His little companion was very much awake, now finding interest in batting his long tail.

_How long have I been asleep?_

It was clearly much past noon, just based on the sun’s position in the sky.

“Hey,” he said gently when he saw his tail had now found its way into the kit’s mouth. “That’s not a toy you know.”

The tiny tux blinked innocently at him before acquiescing and spitting it out.

“Mhmm. That’s what I thought. You know you can only get away with this because you’re still young enough to.”

Munkustrap grabbed the kit by the scruff before giving him a wash. The kit squirmed beneath him, mewing in protest.

“I know you don’t like it,” the Jellicle protector said in between licks. “But you don’t want to be dirty, do you?”

“You can do with a wash yourself, you know,” Jenny said as she re-entered the den.

Munkustrap raised his eyebrows.

“Thanks for waking me up,” he said dryly.

“Not a problem, dear,” she responded, not missing a beat.

She set down a wooden bowl with what looked like milk beside the two toms. The tiny tux wriggled out of his grasp as he leaped towards the bowl and lapped the milk hungrily.

Jenny smiled.

“Good. I was hoping his appetite would return to him soon. He’s such a small thing and has a lot of catching up to do.”

“Where’d you get the milk?” Munk asked.

“Bustopher Jones. He supplies it to me for Victoria. Poor child isn’t weaned yet but there are no other queens to feed her.”

Munkustrap nodded sadly. Victoria was Bustopher’s niece. Her mother had died suddenly, and the rotund “cat about town” had no experience or interest in kit-rearing. He had left his niece with the tribe, telling them she would be better off. Munkustrap couldn’t disagree. Bustopher still held some affection for Victoria however, bringing her small trinkets and toys. The other kits anticipated his visits as well, hoping he would bring them some rice pudding from one of his clubs.

“I suppose we should introduce him to the other kits,” he said, watching the tuxedo tom continue to lap fervently at the milk.

“I’ve tried that, I’m afraid. While you were still out. He pitched a fit. Refused to go in.”

Munkustrap’s eyes widened.

“Why?”

“I’m not sure, dear. It just looks like he was spooked by unfamiliar cats. Both Jelly and Demeter visited as well, and he refused to go near them.”

“So...what are we going to do?”

The kit finished his milk, purring contently.

“He can stay with me for now, until we find a more permanent solution. But before we do anything, I think you need to give him a name.”

“Me?”

“You found him. It’s only right.”

“Jenny...I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

The tabby queen paused, crossing her arms.

“And why not?”

Munkustrap shrank under her scrutinizing gaze.

“It’s just...I can’t think of anything.”

“My dear, that is the worst excuse I’ve ever heard.”

_But it’s not false._

“I’m going to return this bowl to the nursery, and by the time I get back, there will be a name for this kit. Do you understand young tom?”

“I...uh...”

“Good. Shouldn’t be long.”

And with that, she left.

Munkustrap let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Leave it to Jenny to tell the Jellicle protector, son of Old Deuteronomy, what to do. He couldn’t help but chuckle. He held nothing but respect and admiration for the tabby queen, for she was the closest thing he had to a mother. But she could be terrifying when crossed.

“Alright, little one,” he said, picking the kit up. “What are we going to name you?”

Predictably, the kit didn’t respond, letting out a soft squeak.

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s going to work.”

He groaned, racking his brain.

_Jonathan? No, much to formal._

The kit escaped from his grasp yet again, and began to chase a ball of yarn that Jenny used for her knitting projects.

“She’s not going to be happy that you’re unwinding her yarn, you know,” he warned, trying to hide his amusement. The ball of yarn was larger than the poor kit. It was certainly a sight to see.

The kit, unsurprisingly, ignored him as he continued to play.

_Percy?_

No. That name was bad luck, no matter how you looked at it.

He sighed.

“Adonis, Adrian, Zeus, Zenon, Bruno, Snowball...”

He was just listing every name he knew, whether it be friends, family, or even strangers.

“Isaac, Pepper, Rudolf, Tiberius, Quinn, Axl, Hugo...”

The kit turned around, ears pricking.

Munkustrap stopped.

“Did you like that? Those last three were the names of the cats that lived with me at my human’s house.”

The kit tilted his head.

“No, I don’t suppose you know what that means. It’s where my collar came from,” he said, pointing to the band around his neck.

“They’re gone now, unfortunately. They were rather old when I first moved in. See, I’d like to name you after them, but it doesn’t seem right to pick one over the other two.”

He paused briefly, an idea formulating in his head.

“Unless...”

He bent down towards the kit, who was now uncharacteristically still.

“What about Quaxo? It’s...well it’s a combination of all three names. And I think it suits you. A unique name for a unique kit.”

Quaxo padded over to the grey tabby, nuzzling him.

“So I take that as a yes then?”

Quaxo purred.

Munkustrap smiled.

“It’s settled then. Welcome to the tribe, Quaxo.”


	3. Munkustrap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tugger babysits (badly), Munkustrap flirts (badly), and I attempt a cockney accent (badly).

_She often found herself walking the streets at night. In fact, she made a habit of it. The stars, glowing brightly against the milky black sky gave her comfort, even in the darkest of times._

_It wasn’t always like this. She had a happy childhood. Or, at least she remembered it being happy. She never knew her father and had no siblings. It was Selene and her mother against the world. But her mother was of a weak disposition. She wasn’t sure what illness did her in, but it wasn’t quick, nor was it painless. It wasn’t until she died that Selene realized how large the world really was, especially with no one at your side._

_And so she wandered. She explored. She danced. Oh, how she loved to dance. And so did the toms around her. She was choosy with her lovers, for only she deserved the best. But things didn’t last. Her knee injury ended her ability to dance, but didn’t quell her passion for the art. It did, however, end her parade of male conquests. She couldn’t afford to be picky anymore, for there was nothing special about her that separated Selene from any other queen on the streets. She grew to believe no tom would even feel any sort of affection for her._

_Then she met him._

_He was large but not too large. Attractive, certainly. Fiery ginger fur and large brown eyes that one could lose themselves in._

_He wasn’t a stray, he had told her._

_“Then what are you?” she questioned. “You have an owner?”_

_He told her he was a Jellicle. They called him Macavity._

_Selene knew of the tribe. Most cats did. Jellicles were performers, the greatest in the world. Macavity seemed less impressed._

_He told her that they didn’t deserve their reputation. They were liars and cowards. They were cheaters and terrorists. They were unnatural. They were the enemies._

_“Then why stay with them?” she had asked._

_He smiled._

_“Not for much longer.”_

_It was the only response he gave her._

_She spent the night with him. And then another. And another. It became a past time. She rewarded his attention with physical affection. He wanted her as his mate, telling her of his magic, of the life they could share together._

_She accepted._

_Macavity kept his word, and soon left the tribe. They would be together now, she had thought. And they were, to start._

_He had soon amassed a following, offering protection to other street cats and wanderers. For his protection, they offered their services. Their loyalty. He ruled harshly, unforgivingly. Few dared cross him. His magic was wild and unpredictable. Punishment was akin to torture._

_They say he killed for fun. That he found pleasure through the pain of others. They say he lined his den with his enemy’s bones. That he bathed in their blood._

_Selene shook her head._

_“Don’t believe everything you hear,” she would respond._

_He had changed, she realized. His fur became unruly, his eyes reddened. He wasn’t faithful to her. Selene saw many queens come and go from his den. Some even dared come a second time._

_Their couplings became less frequent. His demeanor unnerved her, for he wasn’t the same cat she had fallen for._

_Neither, she realized, was she._

#

“Munkus?”

“Yes, Quaxo?”

“Have you ever kicked someone out of the tribe?”

Munkustrap paused, looking down at his young charge.

“Why do you ask?” he questioned cautiously.

Quaxo averted his gaze.

“I just...want to know, is all.”

“Little one, is there something you’re hiding from me?”

“No! No, I promise...”

“Hey,” Munkustrap murmured, bending down to Quaxo’s level. “I didn’t mean it like _that_. I’m not going to kick you out of the tribe if that’s what you are worried about.”

Quaxo looked up.

“You promise?”

Now he was getting concerned.

“Quaxo, is there something bothering you? What brought this up?”

“It’s n-nothing,” he sputtered.

“Come here,” he whispered, drawing the young kit closer to him. “If you need to know, I have kicked a cat out of the Jellicle tribe before. Only once.”

“Why?”

“He...he was a bad cat, Quaxo. He did some bad things.”

“It was Macavity, wasn’t it?”

Munk stiffened.

“How do you know of him?”

The tiny tux shrugged.

“I just hear things, is all. Is it true that he has magic?”

Munk sighed.

“Yes.”

“Is...magic bad?”

Munkustrap paused, trying to figure out how to answer the question.

“It...well, it doesn’t have to be. But magic can be used for bad things.”

“Did you kick him out because he had magic?”

“I kicked him out because he was a bad cat. A bad cat that happened to have magic powers.”

“Oh.”

“Look at me, little one.”

Quaxo brought his watery gaze up to Munkustrap’s.

“There is nothing you can do that will cause me to kick you out of the tribe. Macavity did some awful things and was forced to leave. But you aren’t him. Do you understand me?”

The tiny tux sniffled.

“Yes.”

“Good. Now, I have some plans for you today.”

“What plans?”

“You’re going to be spending the day with my brother.”

Quaxo jumped up.

“N-no, I can’t. I don’t want...”

“This isn’t about what you want. It’s about what you need. If I’m being honest, Jenny and I have probably been a bit too lenient with you compared to the other kits. You need to learn how to socialize.”

“But why him?”

Munkustrap laughed.

“My brother is an absolute terror. In the best of ways, of course. If there is anyone in this tribe that can get you to open up, it will be Tugger. Trust me, he never stops talking.”

Quaxo shook his head, backing away.

“Please don’t make me, Munkus...”

“It’s for your own good. I haven’t made you leave Jenny’s den, or even talk to anyone besides the two of us. It isn’t healthy.”

“I’m healthy! I promise,” the tuxedo kitten whined.

Munkustrap shook his head.

“You aren’t changing my mind.”

“But what if he’s mean?”

“Who, Tugger?”

Quaxo nodded.

“He’s big. And...scary looking.”

Munk snorted.

“The only big my brother is is big headed. If he annoys you, feel free to jump on him. Tussle up his mane, that’ll do him in.”

He could see Quaxo starting to tremble, clawing behind his ear in what seemed to be a nervous tick.

“You’re acting like I’m sending you to your imminent death. I promise little one, my brother is not that bad. Full of hot air maybe, but a good cat once you get to know him.”

He paused briefly, making sure the tuxedo kitten was still breathing properly.

“I’m not changing my mind on this,” he said firmly.

“Ok,” Quaxo whispered. “But please don’t make me do it again.”

“We’ll see.”

Truth be told, Munkustrap was more nervous than he let on. Quaxo had now been with the tribe for two months, but was still stunted, both physically and socially. He was incredibly small for his age, and had clear separation anxiety. He hated other cats coming in close proximity to him. Aside from Jenny and himself, the only other cat to have been able to get anywhere near him was Demeter. Even then, he still hadn’t spoken a word to her.

Munk didn’t understand it. He was a lively kit when not under any social pressure, light on his feet and incredibly perceptive for his age. But it was almost as if there was something the tiny tux was not telling him. He seemed... scared of himself. And it greatly bothered him that he didn’t know why. Was it something to do with Macavity? Was that why he was asking about him?

Munkustrap shook his head. Maybe he was overthinking things. Maybe Quaxo was just...shy.

The two made their way to Tugger’s den, Quaxo clinging onto his hind leg for dear life. His little brother seemed less than amused at what Munk had tasked him to do, looking clearly uncomfortable in the presence of a kit. Especially an anti-social kit _who would not let go of his leg._

“Come now,” he said gently. “We discussed this, remember? You’ll be staying with Rum Tum Tugger today.”

Quaxo tightened his hold.

He could see Tugger tense up. He shot him a look, something along the lines of _it’s not you, he just hates everyone._

Tugger rolled his eyes

 _You owe me_ , his glare said back.

Munk managed to get Quaxo to release his grip on his leg. He could see the fear in the kit’s eyes as he was about to be left in an unfamiliar place.

“Jenny and I will pick you up in the morning,” he said, nosing the little tux’s fur. Finally, Quaxo stopped shaking, but he still looked incredibly nervous.

Munk looked up at Tugger. 

_Don’t mess this up._

_Who, me?_

The grey tabby exited the den, stifling a laugh.

This was going to be interesting.

#

To be honest, the Jellicle protector wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. Quaxo was with Tugger, Jellylorum was watching over the nursery, Jenny was visiting Skimbleshanks on the night train, Alonzo was keeping lookout...everything was...fine. It was winter, and much of the junkyard spent this time with their humans, at least those who had humans. A warm house was a superior option to the freezing, snow covered junkyard no matter how you looked at it.

Munkustrap felt a pang of guilt for not visiting his humans in a while. But the human kit was getting older, and she spent far less time around him anyways. They hardly noticed he was gone most of the time.

“You busy?”

Demeter came up alongside him, looking rather bored herself.

“Not particularly, no.”

“Well then, how about a hunt?”

Munk smiled.

“Sounds like a plan.”

He would be lying if he said he wasn’t drawn to the gold and white queen. She was shy but not unapproachable. Kind but fiercely loyal. And she had been through a lot, more than anyone should ever have to go through. But she still found the power within her to smile. To continue on. And he held so much admiration for her. For her spirit.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t much in the way of food for hunting, at least at this time of year. Munkustrap come back with a scrawny looking vole, Demeter with an even smaller mouse. It wasn’t much of a meal, but it was still a meal nonetheless.

“So,” Demeter said as she finished her food. “I see you left Quaxo with your brother.”

“You saw correctly.”

Demeter raised her eyebrows.

“Are you trying to scar the kit?”

Munkustrap chuckled.

“Come on, Dem. He’s not _that_ bad.”

She snorted.

“You’re just biased. Tugger is menace to this junkyard. Before you know it, Quaxo is going to start wearing spikes and telling cats that _aggressive hip thrusting_ is an actual form of dance.”

He couldn’t help both laugh, Demeter eventually joining him. It felt so good to just let loose for a bit. To talk to a cat that saw him for who he was, not just their protector, or the leader’s son. He looked at Demeter, who looked so beautiful framed against the setting sun. His breath hitched as he realized were his thoughts were leading him.

_No....she’ll never want you._

“Hey,” she nudged him gently. “You okay?”

“I...uh...” He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Thinking about Quaxo?”

_No, actually._

But he wasn’t about to be truthful on where his thoughts currently lay.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” he said. “He’s a strong little kit. He may not look it, but he’ll adapt. Change is scary at any age.”

“It was terrible,” she murmured. “What happened to him. It’s a really good thing you found him before it was too late, Munk.”

“I know. I just...” Munkustrap paused. “I just...can’t believe the awful things that some cats are capable of.”

“I can,” she whispered, barely loud enough to be heard.

His heart quickened.

“Oh, Dem. I didn’t mean...”

“No, it’s okay, really. I know you didn’t mean it,” she said softly, resting her head on his shoulder. He tensed, if only briefly. He knew that Demeter was not a fan of physical contact with other cats, especially males. The fact that she was willing to touch him of her own accord displayed a tremendous amount of trust that she had in him. It made the Jellicle protector feel especially warm inside. 

They sat in silence, watching the sun dip lower and lower in the sky. He couldn’t think of the last time he had felt so relaxed. 

She eventually yawned, turning to look at him.

“Perhaps we should go back. It’s getting dark.”

He didn’t want this moment to end. But she was right. He could already feel the chill in the air.

“Alright,” he murmured. “Let’s go.”

He dropped her off at her den that she shared with her sister, Bombalurina, before deciding to give his brother a visit. It wouldn’t hurt to check on them, right?

He made his way over to Tugger’s den, only to find it empty.

Where were they?

He told himself not to worry, maybe they were visiting someone else’s den. Or perhaps the nursery. He tried there first with little luck, and had no more success in Jenny’s den.

Now he was worried.

“Lonz!” he called out.

“Hm?” The black and white tom turned to him from where he was perched on lookout. “What’s up?”

“Did you see my brother leave the junkyard?”

“Umm...not that I’m aware of.”

“I can’t find him.”

Alonzo shrugged.

“He probably went for a shag or something. I don’t see what the problem is.”

“I left Quaxo with him!”

“I thought you were against institutionalized torture.”

“Lonz,” he hissed. “My brother and my kit are missing from the junkyard. At night. Are you understanding how serious this is?”

“No...I know. I’m sorry. But are you sure they aren’t here? Have you checked every den?”

“No, but...”

“Then let’s not assume the worst just yet. I’ll put Admetus on watch and we can go check before putting a search team together, okay?”

Munk nodded, his heart pounding.

_Things are fine. Stop panicking._

The two toms searched the junkyard, den by den, coming up short.

“Okay,” Alonzo admitted. “Perhaps you were right.”

Munk never wanted to be wrong more in his life.

“I’ll ask Jerrie to come with us. The kit has a good nose for this type of thing.”

The three of them soon left, trying in vain to trace Tugger’s scent.

“It’s ‘arder you know, with the snow and all that,” Mungojerrie mumbled after searching for over an hour.

Munk shook his head.

“They have to be out here somewhere.”

“Should we split up?” his second in command asked.

“No. It’s too dangerous,” Munk responded. “Especially at night.”

“Maybe, but we would be able to cover more ground.”

“I’m not risking it. We’ll just have to spend longer...”

“Munk, at this pace we’re going to freeze to death.”

“We’ll be _fine_ , we just...”

“‘ey guys?” Jerrie yelled from a distance. “I think I found sumthin’.”

Munk’s breath caught in his throat.

“Is it them?”

“No, but...”

_Then why do I care?_

“Just a minute, Jerrie,” he said through clenched teeth. “We’re coming.”

The boisterous young calico definitely found something of interest. A pollicle, in fact. A dead one. There were no wounds on his body, except for one. A large burn mark on his side. Presumably that was what killed it.

“Did someone...electrocute it?” Alonzo asked with a face of disgust.

Jerrie shrugged. “I dunno. I just found ‘im lyin’ there. All dead and everythin’.”

“But...how? I mean...there’s no one else even out here...”

“My brother is out here. Along with Quaxo,” Munkustrap interrupted. “I don’t know what happened here, but I don’t like it. There may be other pollicle’s wandering around and I don’t want us sitting here, waiting for them to find us. Let’s keep moving.”

“Wait,” Jerrie said. “Look at ‘is paws. They ‘ave blood on ‘em.”

“He was clearly in a fight with someone,” Alonzo murmured.

Munk tried not to expect the worst, but he couldn’t help but think of those claws running down the side of his brother. Or little Quaxo. No, no. They were fine. They had to be fine. They had...

“Munk?” Alonzo asked. “You still with us?”

He nodded.

_Pull yourself together, for Heavyside’s sake._

He took a deep breath before speaking.

“There are blood on this pollicle’s paws,” he started. “Which, as you’ve stated Lonz, means that he was in a fight with someone. So the question then is, where is the thing he was fighting?”

“Must’ve escaped,” Jerrie said.

“Perhaps. Look at the _amount_ of blood on the pollicle’s paws. And on the ground. It’s quite a lot, don’t you think? Now, if you were out here, and you were injured, where would you go?”

“To find shelter, probably.”

“And do you know where the closest shelter is?” Munk asked.

His two companions looked around.

“Not really,” Alonzo said. “I mean...I think I see some trees over there. I suppose if I were injured and had nowhere else to go I might go there. You know, in case it started snowing again and I couldn’t go anywhere else.”

“Uh, Munk,” Jerrie asked. “You aren’t thinkin’ that Tug was the one who was fightin’ the pollicle, do yah?”

Munkustrap sighed. “I don’t know, Jerrie. But it’s the best lead we’ve got right now.”

“Still doesn’t explain the burn mark,” Alonzo muttered.

No, it didn’t, but Munk didn’t really have the time to focus on that right now.

The three made their way over to the cluster of trees, noting the blood that stained the grass and dirt. So Munk’s suspicions were right, the injured creature did find their way over here.

The spread out, but were still close enough to be in visual range of one another. Munkustrap wasn’t taking any chances.

“Uh...Munk?” Jerrie eventually called out.

“What is it?”

“You...you need to come here.”

Munk sighed, making his way over. “Look, we simply don’t have time...”

And then he saw was his clan mate was referencing.

It was Tugger.

#

It felt like his entire world was falling down on him at once. His little brother lay there, blood spilling out of him onto the ground below. Quaxo too was there, lying motionless beneath the large tom.

If it wasn’t for Alonzo, he may have crashed onto the ground as his strength left his body.

“Is he...”

“No,” Jerrie said. “But ‘e’s ‘urt real bad.”

“Steady on now,” Alonzo whispered. “Breathe, Munk. Remember to breathe.”

The grey tabby closed his eyes, trying not to suffocate.

_In and out. In and out. In and out._

When he opened his eyes again, the world had stopped spinning. He knelt down towards Tugger, noting how still he was. How...cold. His stomach clenched at the sight of the blood that matted his fur.

“We...we need to get him home. Now.”

He turned to look at Quaxo. The tiny kit didn’t seem to have any visible injuries, but he was unmoving as well.

“What’s wrong with ‘im?” Jerrie asked.

“It’s probably the cold,” Alonzo responded. “It makes you very tired.”

“Guys,” he hissed. “When I said now, I meant it.”

Alonzo nodded.

“I can get the kit, if you like...”

“No. He...he doesn’t like being touched. If you and Jerrie can get Tugger...”

“Of course Munk.”

The two toms lifted the Maine-Coon with some effort. Tugger was a large cat, and wasn’t the lightest. Munk cradled Quaxo. Tiny little Quaxo. He didn’t want to think about what possibly could of happened out here. Of his brother....his _baby_ brother facing down a pollicle.

_Oh, Tugger. What have you gotten yourself into?_

Somehow, they made their way back to the Junkyard. After that, things began to blur together. Tugger was whisked away to Jenny’s den. The queen had thankfully returned with Skimbleshanks and would tend to Tugger. Munk was barred from visiting while Jenny and Jelly worked on his wounds. He did, however, stay with Quaxo in his own den, licking him ferociously in an attempt to warm him up.

_Come on, little one. Open your eyes._

He wasn’t sure how long it took him, time didn’t seem like a relative construct anymore, before Quaxo stirred.

“Munkus?” He mumbled. “Wha?”

He hugged the kit tightly.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again, do you understand?”

“What happened?”

Munk suddenly felt very tired.

“You and Tugger went out of the Junkyard, do you remember?”

Quaxo paused for a moment.

“Yes,” he whispered. “I asked if we could get rice pudding....then there was a pollicle....”

_They almost died over rice pudding?_

“Just...get some rest, okay?” he said finally.

“Where’s Tugger,” he murmured sleepily.

“He’s...” the Jellicle protector trailed off.

_Fighting for his life._

“...fine,” he said, praying that it was true.

“Just rest, okay?”

Quaxo gave a small grunt of acknowledgement before again closing his eyes. Munkustrap wasn’t having as easy a time. His head was pounding, he was _tired_ , but his body refused to allow him rest. And his mind was buzzing. Things just….weren’t adding up. For any normal kit, _yes_ , the effects of hypothermia could easily cause you to lose consciousness. But Quaxo _wasn’t_ a normal kit. When Munk and Alonzo had found him the first time, he didn’t seem to have a problem with staying out in the cold for what looked like hours. He wasn’t sustaining any injuries, at least any visible ones. Was it the shock? Perhaps seeing Tugger take on a pollicle could have caused him to faint. 

Munk shook his head. He could again attribute this to him simply overthinking things, as he was prone to do, but he also didn’t like not _knowing_. What possible explanation was there for the burn mark on the pollicle? He briefly considered asking Quaxo, but he didn’t want to wake the kit who was nestled contently in his arms. 

_How did Tugger escape?_

“Munk?” Jenny’s voice called out after an indeterminable amount of time. “Are you in there?”

“Yes...”

She burst in, startling Quaxo back into consciousness.

“Jenny! Please tell me he’s...”

“He should be fine, dear.”

Munk almost collapsed.

“Oh thank Heavyside,” he said. “Can I see him?”

The tabby queen nodded. “I came here to fetch you. He’s awake.”

“Already? That didn’t take long.”

“Long? My dear it took all night. It’s well into morning now.”

“What? No it’s...” he looked outside to see the sun shining brightly.

_Oh._

Jenny frowned.

“Munkustrap, do you mean to tell me you stayed up all night?”

“I...I don’t remember. It didn’t feel that long...”

He shook his head.

“It doesn’t matter. I need to see him.”

“Now wait a second...”

He didn’t wait to hear the remainder of the sentence. He went as quickly as he could to Jenny’s den, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw his brother, looking very much not dead. He tried to think of something to say. _Anything_ to say. But it was as if he was on autopilot, immediately enveloping Tugger in a hug.

“You _idiot_ , he whispered. “You absolute idiot...”

“Munk? You’re uh...squishing me.” He let go, feeling slightly embarrassed. Maybe he was just overtired as he was genuinely never that outwardly affectionate.

“So uh...is this the part where you lay into me then?” his little brother asked.

“I try not to kick cats that are already down.”

“I’m sensing a _but_ in there...”

“But what were you thinking? Bringing a kit...”

“I know,”

“...out of the junkyard...”

“I _know_...”

“...at night...”

“Well it wasn’t night when we left...”

_That’s not the point!_

“Please don’t be mad at him, Munkus.”

The Jellicle protector turned around the to see Quaxo had entered the den.

_Did he follow me in here?_

The tiny tux immediately ran to Tugger, burrowing himself in his large mane.

_Clearly I have missed a lot._

“It was my fault,” the tiny tux said. “I wanted to go out. It was _my_ idea. You...you can be mad at me.”

The grey tabby sighed.

“I’m not mad at you, little one. And I’m not mad at my brother, either.”

Quaxo looked confused.

“You sounded like you were.”

“It’s because I was worried.”

“We didn’t mean to make you worried, right Tugger?”

“I think he knows, kit.”

Munk couldn’t help but notice the newfound closeness between Quaxo and Tugger.

_Seriously, what did I miss?_

He didn’t realize how tired he was, or how awful he must have looked, until Tugger pointed it out to him.

“Did you sleep at all, brother?”

_What are you, my mother?_

“How could I Tugger?” he responded angrily. “How could I possibly sleep if there was a chance that one or both of you could be gone by the time I woke up?”

“I’m alright now,” he said softly. “And clearly so is the little guy next to me. You should really get some sleep.”

“I’ll be fine, Tug. Staying awake for another couple hours shouldn’t be that hard of a task...”

To be truthful, it was an incredibly hard task. Munk didn’t quite remember how the rest of the conversation went. Something about the Jellicle ball came up, surely. He did promise the Maine-Coon the role of the Rumpus Cat if he agreed to watch Quaxo. Tugger soon fell back asleep, his injuries clearly exhausting him. Quaxo eventually followed suit, not leaving his brother’s side. Munkustrap told himself that he would stay awake. That he would watch over them. It was the least he could do, after all.

He was asleep in minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are interested in reading this chapter from Tugger's perspective, feel free to check out my other Cats fic, [Misadventures in Babysitting.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23035915/chapters/55088095)
> 
> It's not required reading for this fic, but it does provide some context for the elements seen in this chapter.


	4. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Is it time already to ruin Munk's day?"
> 
> \- Macavity (probably)

_“I don’t like this.”_

_“What, are you scared?”_

_“No...”_

_“We’ll be fine, Munk.”_

_“We’re not supposed to leave the junkyard.”_

_“Nobody will know we’re gone.”_

_“We’ll get in trouble.”_

_“I told you, they won’t know.”_

_“What if...”_

_Macavity groaned._

_“What?”_

_“What if we’re attacked? There are pollicles out here.”_

_“Then we’ll defend ourselves,” Macavity said. “I have powers, remember? I’d like to see those mangy things try to touch us. I’ll make it burst into flames or something.”_

_Munkustrap shuddered._

_Mac didn’t mean it, right?_

_He sighed, following his friend. When Mac wanted to do something, there wasn’t much anyone could do to change his mind._

_For the longest time, it had been just the two of them in the nursery. They had grown up together due to circumstance, with Macavity’s parents dead and Munkustrap’s uninvolved, the two toms often depended on each other for company._

_Munk was the first one to find out about Macavity’s magic and was always impressed at the things he could do. His charms and vexes became more elaborate as they aged, and more dangerous as well. Accidents have happened, with varying degrees of destruction. Much of the clan was enthralled, but this feeling was not entirely universal. Even Munk had to admit his powers could be construed as threatening. But Mac was his friend. His brother. Whatever damage he caused couldn’t be intentional._

_He hoped._

_With time, however, came change. Jennyanydots had acted as a surrogate parent of sorts to the two of them, but this role became less prominent after her own children were born. Alonzo and Admetus gave the two older kits some company, at least Munkustrap thought so. Jellylorum’s litter, Demeter and Bombalurina, followed shortly after which further increased the number of suitable playmates. Mac seemed entirely less impressed that there were other kits that Munk and the adults were paying attention to._

_Even Munk had to admit he was spending less time around the ginger tom-kit lately. As he had gotten older, his father and Percy had taken more of an interest in him. He now spent several days a week training to be a future protector._

_“Do you know where we’re going, Mac?” the grey tabby asked after several minutes of aimless walking._

_“I don’t know,” he said in return. “I just want to explore. Aren’t you interested at all?”_

_“I mean...yes. But, well...we’re not...”_

_“Supposed to be out here, I know,” Macavity cut in. “But we’re not going to be full toms for a while and I’m sick of just sitting in the junkyard. It’s boring.”_

_“It’s safe,” Munkustrap insisted._

_Mac stopped, turning to face the grey tabby._

_“See? This is why you shouldn’t be protector. You’re scared of everything.”_

_Munkustrap bristled._

_“I’m not scared. I’m being smart. It’s dangerous...”_

_“Yeah? And you know what else is dangerous? Pollicle’s and Pekes and rats and humans and other cats. These are all the things you’re going to have to protect the tribe from when you’re in charge. If anything, I’m helping you out. Think of it as preparation.”_

_Munkustrap sighed._

_“There’s a difference between defending yourself from danger and seeking it out,” he responded, trying to keep his voice level._

_Macavity snorted._

_“Did Old Deuteronomy tell you that?”_

_“Percy, actually.”_

_The ginger tom-kit shook his head._

_“This is why I should be protector. I’m more powerful than anyone else in the junkyard.”_

_Munkustrap watched as his friend tore into the weeds beneath him._

_“I mean, you’re my best friend,” Macavity continued, “but the only reason you’re in this position in the first place is because you’re Old Deuteronomy’s kit.”_

_“That’s...not true.”_

_The ginger tom-kit laughed harshly._

_“Oh yes it is. We all know it.”_

_“Percy’s protector right now and he’s not related...”_

_“That’s because Old Deuteronomy didn’t have any other kits at the time,” he interrupted._

_Munkustrap bit his tongue, trying not to let his friend’s venomous words get to him. Macavity had always been impulsive and harsh with his language, never stopping to think about the impact of what he was saying to other cats. Or perhaps he did, and simply didn’t care. Regardless, it stung the grey tabby, who had futilely hoped that his friend would be supportive of his increasing position in the clan._

_However, he couldn’t help but think that Mac was right. Nepotism certainly played a part in Old Deuteronomy’s choice, and Munkustrap spent many sleepless nights trying to live up to his father’s expectations of him. Having a friend who was capable of literal magic didn’t help with his budding inferiority complex, nor his already panic-prone disposition. He had spent much, if not all, of his kit-hood walking in Macavity’s much larger shadow, and he knew it was time to establish himself separately from him. While he knew that spending more time away from the ginger tom was upsetting to him, perhaps it would ultimately be for the best._

_“Look,” Mac said, breaking the silence that fell over the two toms. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that stuff. Forgive me?”_

_Munk didn’t want to, but he was too tired to protest. Sometimes giving into Macavity’s demands were easier than going against them. Stuff like this happened all too frequently of late, with them arguing over something and Macavity apologizing as if Munkustrap shouldn’t harp on anything he did or said. Except that the grey tabby did. Constantly. His tendency to overthink things will be his downfall if it continued._

_He gave his companion a weak nod, and the two continued in their journey in silence._

_“Hey, do you want to see something cool?” Macavity finally asked._

_Munk looked up._

_“What?”_

_“I’ve been practicing. Moving things with my mind, that is.”_

_“Oh?”_

_He nodded._

_“I can move really heavy things now. Want to see?”_

_Munk raised an eyebrow._

_“What are you going to move?”_

_Macavity smirked._

_“See that tree over there?”_

_The two toms had wandered into what looked like a park. Since it was nighttime the area was quite empty and eerily silent. The tree that Macavity indicated was one of many that lined the perimeter. It was also very large and looked sturdy enough for at least several of the human kits to climb on._

_“There’s no way, Mac. Look at it. It’s much too large...”_

_“Please,” Mac snorted. “My powers are growing every day. It’ll be easy.”_

_“But what if you hit someone?”_

_“Do you see anyone else out here?”_

_“No, but...”_

_“Then shut up. I’m concentrating.”_

_Munk shook his head. This was a bad idea. Trees like that would make a large noise when toppled over. He didn’t want to draw any attention to himself._

_Macavity stood rigidly, laser focused on the tree. Several moments passed and nothing seemed to be happening._

_“Maybe we should...”_

_“Shut. Up.”_

_Munk groaned, planting himself on the ground. If he was going to be here a while, he didn’t want to be standing. Another couple of minutes passed in silence, Munk hoping that this would be a long enough time for Macavity to get bored and leave. He could see his friend getting more frustrated by his lack of progress in moving the tree._

_The ginger tom-kit let out a large howl as a flash of lightening burst through the sky, briefly illuminating the park._

_Munkustrap gasped as he watched the scene unfold. The lightening made contact with the tree, which subsequently burst into flames before toppling over._

_“Ha! I did it!” His companion exclaimed. “I told you I could, didn’t I?”_

_Munkustrap was still trying to catch his breath._

_“You...you never mentioned the lighting. Since when could you do that?”_

_The larger tom shrugged._

_“I don’t know. Now was the first time. Pretty cool though, right? I mean look how much damage I did!”_

_The grey tabby shook his head._

_“I think we should go,” he mumbled._

_“Why? I’m just getting started.”_

_“We’re drawing attention to ourselves!”_

_“So?”_

_Macavity grasped the smaller tom by his scruff and began to half-carry, half-drag him over to the fallen tree._

_“Mac!”_

_“I just want to look, that’s all.”_

_“We can see it from here!”_

_Macavity released his grip on him when they reached a close enough proximity. The flames had mostly died out, leaving only a couple of dying sparks._

_“Can you believe it?” the ginger tom-kit said gleefully. “I have to try it again.”_

_Munkustrap rubbed his temples, feeling a headache coming on._

_“Not now, please?”_

_“What are you so afraid of Munk?”_

_“I told you, I’m not...you know what? I’m leaving. I’m done.”_

_“Wait a second...”_

_“No,” he hissed as he turned back towards the junkyard. He began to make his way around the tree when he felt something that didn’t feel like ground. In fact, it felt furry. Furry and wet._

_He looked down to find that the two of them were not alone in the park. There was another cat, lying pinned beneath the trunk of the fallen tree and the ground below. His eyes were closed but Munkustrap could still see the slight rise and fall of his chest. He was still breathing, which meant he was still alive. The wetness he felt looked to be the blood that was seeping from the open wounds gracing the tom’s chest where the branches must have scraped him._

_“Mac!” he hissed. “There’s...there’s another cat. Under the tree!”_

_“What?”_

_Munk bent down, placing his paw gently on the cat. He looked young, perhaps not much older than himself._

_“Hello?” he whispered. “Can you hear me?”_

_He felt Macavity yank his arm away from the wounded tom._

_“What are you doing?” he snarled._

_Munkustrap whipped around to face his companion._

_“I’m trying to help. Maybe if we work together we can get him out...”_

_“Are you insane? It’s too heavy for us to move...”_

_“Then we should go get help!”_

_“What help? We don’t know anyone out here...”_

_“The Junkyard isn’t that far away. Jenny will know what to do.”_

_“Absolutely not.”_

_Munk narrowed his eyes._

_“Why not?”_

_Mac pointed at the injured tom._

_“He’s going to die, Munk. Look at him. We need to leave now and pretend this never happened.”_

_“But he’s still...”_

_“Not for long,” Macavity interrupted. “If anything, I should kill him now to put him out of his suffering.”_

_Munkustrap blinked the tears from his eyes._

_“We need to try, Mac.”_

_The ginger tom-kit shook his head._

_“Do you realize what would happen if the tribe found out about us leaving tonight? How disappointed they’d be? How would your father look at you, now that you’ve disobeyed him?”_

_“But...”_

_“They’ll put guards on us day and night. They’ll never trust us again, do you realize? I’m not about to let you trap me in the junkyard for who knows how long.”_

_“There is a life on the line, Mac!”_

_“No there isn’t! Look at him! You’re sacrificing our freedom for someone who is already dead!”_

_He took in a deep breath before placing his paw on the smaller cat’s shoulder._

_“Let me handle this, Munk,” he said softly. “It’s for the best, I promise. Nothing that happened tonight was our fault.”_

_The grey tabby didn’t believe him. It was Macavity’s fault. And... and it was his as well._

_“I’m still going to ask Jenny for help,” he said firmly. “It’s the right thing to do.”_

_Macavity growled, shaking his head._

_“Think of it this way, then. Say that we do get him out. And say that somehow he lives. I mean, what if he saw me conjure the lightning? I bet he’ll talk. We don’t know who he is or who he knows. What if he tells the junkyard what I’ve done here? What if Old Deuteronomy and Percy decide I’m dangerous and kick me out?”_

_“They won’t...”_

_“Oh, but you don’t know that, do you? A protector has to protect the clan after all. My powers are dangerous, aren’t they?”_

_“They can be, but...” Munk sputtered, trailing off._

_“You won’t let them kick me out, will you Munk?” Macavity cut in. “You don’t want me living on the streets. Having to beg for food? For a home?”_

_“Of course n-“_

_“And what if he tells other cats about me, outside the junkyard? What if they come after me as well? How can you be so selfish Munk? Aren’t you thinking of my safety?” Macavity snarled._

_Munkustrap suddenly felt extremely light headed. He sank to the ground as the world spun around him. Mac bent down, giving him a quick lick to the ear._

_“We’re friends, aren’t we Munk?” He whispered._

_The grey tabby struggled to intake air. The only thing he could do was nod as he tried to stop the world from spinning._

_“Then you know why we need to do this,” Macavity said, rising from his spot._

_Munkustrap could only watch as Macavity focused on one of the small flames still flickering within the cracks on the bark, chanting some things that he couldn’t make out. Soon the flame grew, larger and larger, before it engulfed the whole tree and the injured tom along with it._

_Munk’s tears ran freely now. This...this shouldn’t have happened. They shouldn’t have been out here._

_Even besides that, he should’ve stopped Macavity from doing magic. He should’ve checked that the area was clear. He should’ve tried to find help..._

_Everlasting cat, why was he so weak?_

_Macavity drew the grey tabby near him with his tail as they made their journey home, offering words of comfort, of reassurance that they did the right thing._

_But most importantly, he told him, nobody would have to know what had happened that night._


	5. Munkustrap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Munkustrap learns a secret about Quaxo. It goes over absolutely fine.

In the month that had passed since Tugger and Quaxo's babysitting misadventure, things finally came back to normal. Winter was ending, and with the melting snow came increased activity in the junkyard. Many cats returned home from their owners and brought with them an atmosphere of familiar chaos and chatter.

Jellylorum had since given birth, with Electra, Etcetera and Jemima welcome new additions into the already overrun nursery. Quaxo himself had been spending more time there, with Pouncival and Tumblebrutus all too eager to teach him how to play fight and join in their games. He also seemed incredibly attached to little Victoria. Even though she was mute, the two kits communicated through dance. And they were quite the dancers as well. Munkustrap was never the best at that activity, and found himself constantly in shock on how easily the little tux had picked up the art, how graceful he was, and how much enjoyment he derived from it.

While Munk was seeing less of Quaxo, he was spending more time around Demeter. Rumors spread quickly, and soon their _relationship_ was the talk of the tribe. Munkustrap wasn't quite sure if he would go that far, neither cat had been in a proper relationship before, but he was certainly willing to take it slow for Demeter's sake. He knew to always announce his presence when entering the same room as her, and to never touch her without her permission. She seemed eternally grateful for his patience and he responded in kind. For her, Munkustrap would wait a lifetime.

"I told you," Jenny told him one day as he helped her to clean her over-cluttered den.

"Told me what?"

"You know what I'm talking about. With Demeter..."

Munk smiled.

"I'm afraid I have no idea what you are talking about, Jenny."

"My dear, I know what a tom in love looks like, and you are a prime example of it. If you ask me, it's about time you settled down. Maybe we'll even see some kits on the horizon..."

"Jenny!" Munk chided gently. "We're taking it slow. That type of thing won't be happening for a while, if it happens at all."

"Of course. Forgive an older cat for getting excited over these things. Goodness, I remember when you were just a little kit. So well behaved, you were."

"Getting nostalgic, are we?"

Jenny sighed.

"When am I not these days?"

She picked up her sewing needles that somehow ended up on the floor and deposited them in her drawer. She turned to look at the Jellicle protector.

"I don't suppose you've asked Quaxo about moving into the nursery, have you?"

Munk froze.

"I...uh..."

"Been distracted?"

"Something like that..." he mumbled.

"My dear, I'm not a young as I once was. It's getting harder for me to watch over him."

"I know, Jenny…"

"And don't get me wrong, Quaxo is a pleasure to have in my den. He's never caused me any serious problems. But he really needs to be living in the nursery with other kits of his age…."

"I know, I know. I'll go find him now. I don't suppose you know where he is?"

"I believe I saw him with your brother not too long ago. Perhaps you should try his den?"

The grey tabby frowned.

"Why would he be with Tugger?"

"I'm not sure. If I were to guess, it may have had something to do with their little debacle with the pollicle. I have found that near-death incidents tend to create a rather unique type of bonding experience."

"I guess…but I never thought that Tugger particularly _liked_ kits that much. It's just…strange, is all."

"I think you forget, my dear, that Tugger is closer in age to Quaxo than he is to you."

"You're starting to make me feel old."

She swatted him gently.

"Please. You will always be a kit to me. Now, are you going to talk to him or not?"

"Alright, alright. I got the hint. I guess I'll investigate my brother's quarters. Thanks Jenny."

"No problem, dear."

He exited her den and made his way towards Tugger's.

His little brother had claimed the inside of a washing machine that had been dumped in the junkyard some time ago. It was definitely spacious, and in Munkustrap's opinion, too large for just a single tom. But he doubted Tugger would ever find the time to settle down. Permanency wasn't his style.

He could hear the two of them talking inside as he approached the den. Munk hesitated in entering, his curiosity bubbling over. What could they possibly be discussing?

"Have you tried…perhaps… not doing it like that?" he could hear Tugger ask.

"Well how would _you_ do it then?" Quaxo responded.

_Do what?_

"How am I supposed to know how this works?"

"Because you're old. And old cats know things."

"Alright, let's get one thing straight. I'm not _old_. I'm not even two yet."

Munkustrap shook his head. Wow, his brother really _was_ young. It was hard to believe sometimes. Tugger…. he was loud. He was obnoxious and arrogant. He loved being the center of attention. He craved it. Jenny, being the psychologist she claimed to be, thought this attitude may be rooted in a lack of motherly affection. While Munk tended to disappear into himself, Tugger sought out this affection elsewhere. Jenny's theory seemed plausible enough.

But that was the thing. Tugger _was_ all those things, but he was so much more. He had heart. He had soul. He had a natural charisma and spirit. And there was nothing he wouldn't do for his family. Tugger had a maturity about him that can only be found in cats that were forced to grow up a little too quickly. It was true, Tugger was barely past kit-hood himself. But it was no wonder that Quaxo thought he was much older than he actually was. He had a big personality and enough confidence for the whole tribe. Only a select few, however, knew of the heart that his brother kept hidden beneath his rock star persona. Tugger was a paradox indeed.

"That's _still_ old," Quaxo retorted.

"Whatever you say, sparkles. Now are you going to try again or not?"

_Sparkles? What is he talking about? What are they trying to do?_

"But what if I lose control..."

"You won't. I'll be with you."

"But..."

"Why don't you try something small," Tugger interrupted gently. "Just to start off?"

He heard shuffling around the den.

"How about this ball?"

"Ok...I'll try," Quaxo mumbled.

_What is going on?_

He waited another moment, debating whether or not to interrupt them. The silence didn't last long, however.

"I'm doing it Tugger, do you see?" Quaxo exclaimed.

"Woah. You actually….did it…"

"I _told_ you I could."

"See, I'm pretty sure that's not how the conversation went…"

Munkustrap had enough. He entered the den to see what on earth the two toms were talking about. What he saw when he entered made his jaw drop.

Quaxo was positively glowing. Sparkling, if you may. His fur was lit up in an assortment of different colors making the tiny tux look like a walking rainbow. Above him was a bouncy ball, floating up in the air with nothing to support it.

_What..._

It was silent for a moment as Tugger and Quaxo realized they were not the only two occupants of the den anymore. The bouncy ball dropped to the floor and Quaxo's fur immediately reverted to normal as the little tom's eyes widened in shock. He crawled over to Tugger for refuge.

"Tugger, what...what is..." Munkustrap sputtered, trying to wrap his head around what he just saw.

"Munk," Tugger warned. "Just relax. Just..."

"He has magic?" Munk interrupted as the realization finally struck. "He has magic..."

_Munk? Munk, come here!_

_"Mac, I'm trying to sleep," the grey tom-kit mumbled._

_"Come here, it's important!"_

_He sighed, walking over to his friend._

_"What is it?"_

_"Watch this..."_

_The ginger tom-kit focused intently on a plastic fork on the floor. He flicked his wrist forward, and the fork went flying, slamming into the other side of the nursery wall._

_The grey kitten gasped._

_"How did you..."_

"Munk?" Tugger interrupted. "Can you hear me?"

"He...he has magic..." he repeated weakly.

"Yes. But it's not dangerous, I promise."

_"Mac? Maybe we should stop..."_

_"Just give me a minute, I know I can do it."_

_"No you don't! What if you hurt someone?"_

_"Why is it you never believe in me?"_

_"I do, it's just..."_

_"No you don't! You know what, Munk? I think you're just jealous that the everlasting cat gave me powers and not you," he hissed._

_Munkustrap took a step backwards._

_"That's not true..."_

_"Yes it is! Why do you always…_

_Just then, a burst of light flashed from the ginger kit's paws, striking the inside of the nursery. Flames began to rise, filling the air with smoke._

_For the first time in his life, his friend looked truly scared._

_He looked down at his paws and back at the flames._

_"Did I do that?" he whispered._

Munkustrap shook his head, looking back down at Quaxo. The tiny kit was still huddled behind Tugger, eyes wide.

"I told you," Tugger repeated firmly. "He's not dangerous..."

"Not dangerous?" he responded angrily. "How would you know, Tugger? Since when did you become an expert on magic? Why didn't you tell me about this?"

"Because I was afraid you would react like you're reacting now! He's not going to hurt anyone…"

_Flames. There were flames everywhere. Cats were screaming. It smelled awful. He couldn't see, he couldn't hear. Where did Mac go?_

"You have no idea what magic is capable of, Tugger," he said, his voice dangerously low.

"Oh, I think I..."

"You don't!"

_"I didn't mean to, Munk! You saw me, right? You know I didn't mean to..."_

_"I...I know, Mac. But the nursery..."_

"Do you think Mac was always the way he was? He started off just like Quaxo..."

"Now wait a second!" Tugger interrupted. "Don't tell me that you are going to compare that...that _murderer_ with Quaxo. He's not..."

_"I'd like to see those mangy things try to touch us. I'll make it burst into flames or something."_

"Are you even listening to me?" Tugger hissed, breaking Munk from his reverie.

"You haven't seen the things I've seen, Tugger! You don't understand what magic can do to a cat. What it can do to anyone. It's...it's dangerous. It's unnatural. It's..."

_"He's going to die, Munk. Look at him. We need to leave now and pretend this never happened."_

"So what then? Quaxo is going to be Macavity 2.0 then?"

"That's not what..."

"That's what you were implying, wasn't it?"

"I'm just..."

"You know, you never asked how we escaped that pollicle, did you? _He_ saved me, Munk. He shot that thing in the side while it was crushing me to death. _He_ did that. So don't tell me that Quaxo's going to turn into a raging psychopath because I won't let that happen!"

In retrospect, he should have known. He should have known since the first time he ever laid eyes on Quaxo. No kitten should have been able to survive for that long outside in the middle of winter. And even then, all of the objects that would go missing in Jenny's den - the balls of yarn, the utensils, the toys that all ended up in places that a kit shouldn't even have been able to reach. The signs were all there, he had just overlooked them. Then, of course, was that bloody pollicle. Why didn't he question either of them about the burn mark? Did Quaxo really electrocute it? Did he know that he killed it? Has he done it before? Will….will he do it again?

Munkustrap was finding it increasingly hard to breathe.

_"We're friends, aren't we Munk?"_

Tugger was right. Maybe he was overreacting. But everywhere he went, it seemed like Macavity followed him. His former friend's decent into utter chaos was always in the back of his mind, even moons after it had happened. Seeing Quaxo performing magic just reopened a wound that wasn't entirely closed to begin with.

He looked around for Quaxo, wanting to apologize to the kit, but he realized, far too late, that he wasn't there anymore.

"Where did he go?" he asked Tugger, who now looked furious.

"You scared him off! Do you realize what you've just done?" he snarled.

Munkustrap had never seen his little brother look this... _mad_ before. It unnerved him.

"He's scared, he's alone, he thinks you hate him..."

"I _don't_ hate him, Tug."

"And how is he supposed to know that? You just compared him to a murderer!"

_What have I done?_

Tugger shook his head, leaving the den.

"Where are you going?" Munkustrap asked weakly.

"To find him before he loses control of his powers, if he hasn't already."

"Loses control?"

"They're...I can't explain it. When he's upset everything just seems to...amplify. It can get dangerous for him and everyone around him."

"I'll help..."

"Haven't you done enough?" Tugger hissed, eyes flashing. "You know, it's a good thing you never became a parent because you're terrible at it!"

He watched his brother leave the den, hackles raised.

_Everlasting cat, what have I done?_


	6. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quaxo discovers a secret about himself and runs into a (not so) mighty beast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had never planned to write this chapter, but I received a comment over at FF.net inquiring on how Quaxo discovered his powers. I realized I never really did explain it, hence why this interlude exists. I generally don't like putting interludes right after cliffhangers because I feel as though it interrupts the flow of the story, but there wasn't really another place that I could put it in. 
> 
> Also it was really fun to write from newborn!Quaxo's perspective.

_They called him Q-u-a-x-o._

_But that was not his name, he tried to tell them._

_In the before-time, they called him r-u-n-t. All of the mean, frowny cats that hissed at him a lot and smelled weird and had yellow pointy teeth. They called him r-u-n-t._

_But new-mother and Mus-kun-tap didn't understand him yet._

_So now he was Q-u-a-x-o._

_He didn't mind it too much, his new name. Or where he was living. New-mother was much nicer than old-mother. She smiled and told him s-t-o-r-i-e-s and gave him warm milk. She let him snuggle up with her at night and play with her y-a-r-n and talk with her beetle t-a-t-t-o-o. And she taught him words._

_Quaxo was taught many words, like b-o-o-k, and n-e-e-d-l-e, and m-u-s-i-c._

_But his favorite word was b-a-l-l. It was a round, shiny thing that bounced very high in the air. It was his favorite t-o-y, and it was what he was playing with now._

_New-mother had left him...what was the word?_

_A-l-o-n-e._

_She had left him alone._

_Muk-un-stap came in looking very not-happy, and made new-mother go to a m-e-e-t-i-n-g._

_He told him that they wouldn't be long. And he said to stay here._

_So now Quaxo was alone. Alone with his b-a-l-l._

_He didn't mind. He liked his b-a-l-l a lot. And he liked new-mother's den. The outside was scary and cold and reminded him of the before-time._

_He bounced his b-a-l-l very high, almost hitting the top of the den. He tried to grab it as it came back down but it bounced out of his grasp and onto the top of new-mother's d-r-a-w-e-r._

_Quaxo froze._

_That...never happened before. How was he supposed to get to his ball now? It was too high!_

_New-mother would get mad if he tried to climb her d-r-a-w-e-r. There were n-e-e-d-l-e-s in there that could poke him and make him b-l-e-e-d._

_He really wanted his ball._

_But...new-mother would be mad at him and he didn't like it when she was frowny. It made him...s-a-d?_

_He could see the b-a-l-l peeking out the top of the d-r-a-w-e-r._

_Was it making fun of him?_

_He reached his paw out in vain, trying to grab his favorite t-o-y. But he was too little and did not make it to the top._

_Quaxo sat back down, making a frowny face._

_Now what was he supposed to do?_

_When was new-mother coming back?_

_Is Musk-en-sap okay?_

_Quaxo wished he was older. Older kittens could do lots of things...like t-a-l-k, and d-a-n-c-e and s-i-n-g._

_And reach b-a-l-l-s that were too high._

_But not Quaxo._

_He looked up again at the d-r-a-w-e-r._

_That...wasn't right...his b-a-l-l was not there anymore!_

_Where did it go?_

_Did it disappear?_

_Maybe it had fallen off, he thought. Quaxo looked around the whole den, but he couldn't find his b-a-l-l anywhere._

_Did he make it go away?_

_Was it gone forever?_

_Could all cats do that?_

_He didn't remember new-mother or Munk-sen-rap saying anything about making things go away._

_Maybe...maybe it went outside!_

_Quaxo turned to the entrance of the den._

_The outside was scary. He had only left a couple of times, and he had always been with new-mother when he did. He had never been...alone._

_Mun-sen-kat would not be happy with him if he left._

_Unlike new-mother, he always was frowny about something._

_Maybe if Quaxo could find him then he could help him find his b-a-l-l!_

_He couldn't be mad if Quaxo asked for help, right?_

_He wondered if Muk-us-rap could also make things disappear._

_Quxo took a step outside and felt his paw sink into the ground._

_Into the s-n-o-w._

_No... he didn't like s-n-o-w. It was cold and mushy and wet._

_New-mother said the s-n-o-w would melt one day and it would be warm outside like it was in her den. But that had not happened yet. Was she lying to him?_

_He took another step outside._

_He couldn't see any other cats around. The junkyard was...was... what was it called?_

_E-m-p-t-y._

_Yes. Many cats were with their h-u-m-a-n-s, Mus-ken-strap said._

_Quaxo didn't know what a h-u-m-a-n was or why cats wanted to be with them._

_Maybe he would understand it when he got bigger._

_He traveled farther and farther from new-mother's den, trying to find where Musk-ren-trap was. He had been to his den once, but he didn't quite remember how to get there._

_Was the junkyard always this big?_

_He realized after turning around that he didn't see new-mother's den anymore._

_Was...was he lost? Like in the before-time?_

_It was very cold outside and there were so many dens and...and he was...what was it called?_

_He was s-c-a-r-e-d._

_Quaxo continued forward, passing a re-frig-o-frater._

_It wasn't long before he saw something familiar._

_It was the n-u-r-s-e-r-y!_

_New-mother had taken him there earlier, but Quaxo didn't want to go inside. He didn't like other kittens. What if they were mean? Would they call him r-u-n-t too?_

_He shook his head._

_No, he wasn't going in there._

_Quaxo was about to turn around when he heard a noise._

_It sounded like...like...bouncing?_

_Could it be?_

_He ran towards the sound._

_Yes it was! It was his b-a-l-l! How did it get all the way out here?_

_But Quaxo wasn't happy for long._

_His b-a-l-l was here, but so was another cat._

_A big cat. A big cat with spots and a big yellow mane and s-p-i-k-e-s on his neck._

_Quaxo shivered._

_This was no cat! This was...this was...a great beast!_

_What was he doing outside of the nursery? He couldn't be a kitten, could he? He was so...big!_

_And the great spiky beast had his b-a-l-l!_

_Now how was he supposed to get it back?_

_Would the great beast eat him if he got too close?_

_Did Musk-us-rap know that he was in the junkyard?_

_Quaxo made himself very small, seeking refuge behind the re-frig-o-frater._

_The spiky beast wasn't moving, just bouncing the b-a-l-l._

_His b-a-l-l._

_Was it going to attack?_

_Just then, Quaxo saw another cat._

_"Hey, Tug!" the other cat yelled, coming closer to the great beast._

_Quaxo recognized this cat._

_He was called...what was it?_

_P-l-a-t-o._

_He was a kitten. An older kitten._

_'Run, Plato!' Quaxo wanted to yell. 'Don't go near the great beast!'_

_"Tugger!" P-l-a-t-o said again._

_What...what was a Tugger? Did the beast have a name?_

_"What?" the Tugger-beast groaned._

_"Did you see there was a meeting going on?"_

_"There's plenty of meetings."_

_"Yes, but..."_

_"But what?"_

_"Well I heard from Jerrie who heard from George that apparently Alonzo smelled Macavity's scent on the border..."_

_Quaxo recognized those names. Except the last one._

_Who was...M-a-c-a-v-i-t-y?_

_Was he bad?_

_"I think everyone's freaking out over nothing," the Tugger-beast responded, continuing to bounce his ball._

_"Are you sure? I mean...they looked serious..."_

_"Macavity has magic. If he wanted to do something, he would have done it already. My brother is just neurotic."_

_P-l-a-t-o sighed._

_"I guess..."_

_What was this m-a-g-i-c they were speaking of?_

_"Anyways, where did you get that ball?"_

_"Huh? Oh, this? I dunno. It just appeared out of nowhere."_

_Plato's eyes widened._

_"Out of nowhere? See...this is a sign!"_

_The Tugger-beast groaned._

_"Of what?"_

_"That...that he's here! Macavity, I mean. Can't he make things disappear with magic? What if he's here now?"_

_"It's a ball, for Heavyside's sake. You are worse than my brother."_

_"But..."_

_"Do you really think Macavity would come here for the sole purpose of mildly inconveniencing us? Don't be stupid..."_

_Quaxo's mind was racing._

_This...this m-a-g-i-c...is that what he had? He made the b-a-l-l disappear. Was he like this M-a-c-a-v-i-t-y?_

_He stretched further out from behind the re-frig-o-frater to see the conversation better, but lost his balance and fell over. He landed with a thud._

_Quaxo looked up to see that the Tugger-beast had his eyes on him._

_Oh no! Was he going to eat him?_

_Quaxo ran as fast as he could in the other direction, not even looking where he was going. All he knew was that he had to get as far away from the n-u-r-s-e-r-y as possible._

_His sprint was short lived, however, when he accidentally ran into another cat and was knocked off his paws._

_He looked up, gasping heavily, hoping that this was a cat he recognized._

_"Little one, what are you doing out here?"_

_It was Musk-sen-trap!_

_He picked Quaxo up, holding him close to his chest._

_"Jenny is not going to be happy with you, you know," he said gently._

_'New-father!' Quaxo yelled. 'You must put me down! The Tugger-beast has my ball!'_

_But the words came out as squeaks that Mun-kes-rap didn't understand._

_He raised his eyebrows._

_"Little one, what has gotten into you? What has you so worked up?"_

_Why didn't he understand?_

_He was taken back to his den, where new-mother was waiting for him._

_She looked...frowny._

_"Where was he?" she asked._

_"I found him wandering the junkyard. Something seems to have frightened him."_

_"That's very unlike him," Jenny mused. "He never wants to leave the den. Perhaps he is just overtired."_

_Mun-kus -rap gave Quaxo over to new-mother._

_"We probably shouldn't leave him alone again," he said._

_"Maybe when he's a little older," she agreed._

_'But new-mother,' Quaxo whined. 'My ball. What about my ball? And the spiky Tugger-beast?'_

_New-mother laughed, placing him in her nest._

_"Someone needs a nap," she murmured._

_'But I'm not tired!'_

_"Do you need me to get some milk from the nursery?" Mun-ken-sap asked._

_New-mother curled herself around Quaxo, gently stroking him._

_"No need. Little one is about to conk out any minute."_

_'But...I'm not tired,' Quaxo thought again, eyelids heavy._

_"Are you sure? It wouldn't be a bother..."_

_'But I'm not...'_

_"It's fine, dear. You should rest as well," new-mother said._

_'But I'm...'_

_"Story of my life."_

_Quaxo closed his eyes._

_'But...'_

_He didn't get to finish that thought before he fell asleep._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just for clarification, this interlude takes place about a week or so after Quaxo is rescued, or about 3 months before the events of the last chapter. 
> 
> The kits, in age order, are Tugger, Jerrie + Teazer, Plato, Pounce + Tumble, Victoria, Quaxo. Tugger is a little over a year old while the latter four are all within 1-2 months of each other.


	7. Munkustrap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Munkustrap has a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

Munkustrap tried Jenny's den first. Then his own den. Then the nursery. He came up short all three times, though he was unfortunately expecting such an outcome. Tugger didn't seem to be having any better luck than he was. His brother refused to talk with him, refused to even go near him. It would've been helpful if they could tell the tribe that Quaxo was missing, giving them a couple of more cats to help with the search, but circumstances simply wouldn't allow for it. If Munkustrap's reaction to magic was bad, he could only imagine what the _rest_ of the tribe would think.

He groaned, sitting down next to the TSE car. He had searched the entire junkyard with no sign of the little kit. Tugger had left over an hour ago to look for him outside, and Munkustrap figured that his brother would have a better idea of where Quaxo would have went than he would.

"Are you okay?" a gentle voice said, punctuating his thoughts.

He looked up to see Demeter looking at him with concern.

"The tribe is worried about you, Munk," she continued. "Are you looking for something?"

"It's complicated, Dem," he responded quietly.

"Well, _I'm_ complicated so spit it out."

He sighed.

"Quaxo's missing."

"Missing?"

"I...I may have said some things that upset him, and...well…he just ran off."

"That doesn't sound like you, Munk."

"It doesn't, does it? And yet here we are."

"If you don't mind me asking...what did you say to him?"

Part of him wanted to tell her. Most of him, actually. Aside from Alonzo, Demeter was the best sounding board he could ask for. But if his relationship to magic was complicated, hers was downright resentful. There were few in this clan that found more displeasure in the activity than she did.

"I can't exactly say right now, Dem."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Oh?"

"I _told_ you...it's complicated."

He expected her to argue, but instead she gave him a quick lick to the ear.

"Why don't we gather a search party then?"

"I can't do that either," he replied weakly.

Now she looked confused.

"Are you trying to find the kit or not?"

"I told you, it's..."

"Complicated, I know," she interrupted.

"He's...I don't think he's _himself_ right now, Dem. Seeing other cats might scare him...I just..."

He trailed off, putting his head in his paws.

"I messed up badly, and I don't know how to fix it."

For a moment, his queenfriend didn't respond. But she soon leaned over, nuzzling him gently.

"You really act as if the world is on your shoulders, Munk. Everyone makes mistakes. Some make many mistakes. Those who won't admit to making them are either dead or lying. But if you are going to find Quaxo, I don't think sitting here feeling bad for yourself is going to do it."

"No…I don't suppose it is. But I don't know where else to look. I've checked the whole junkyard, and if he's outside, he could be anywhere. He's clever, Dem."

"He's clever, but he's still a kit," she said. "Do you remember when Bomba tried to run away when we were kits?"

"Yeah, Percy ended up finding her near that bakery that Jelly took you guys to earlier that week, right?"

Demeter nodded.

"It was the only time we left the Junkyard. She went there because it was familiar to her."

"Do you think Quaxo may have gone someplace he has already been?"

"I would start there, yes."

He nodded, rising from the ground.

"I need to go..."

"Do you want me to come?"

"No, Dem. I...I need to do this alone."

A moment of silence passed.

"Munk," she whispered finally. "Please, just be careful, okay?"

He nuzzled her again.

"I will."

#

Quaxo had left the Junkyard, only once. He and Tugger had gone out for rice pudding. The treat wasn't Munkustrap's favorite, but luckily, he knew where it was made. The restaurant was still open at this time of day, but he wasn't there for the food. He was there to collect a scared kitten. It had occurred to him that Tugger may have already searched this area. Actually, it was more than likely.

It therefore didn't surprise him when he reached the restaurant and there was no kitten in sight. Even though he expected as much, his heart plummeted.

_Where could he be?_

He searched the surrounding shops and restaurants with no sign of him.

_Come on, think!_

Was this the only place the two of them went? Quaxo didn't mention going anywhere else. Just based on their location, it was clear they were going home when they were stopped by the pollicle.

_Wait..._

His mind flashed to the grove of trees where they were found. He didn't realize it that night, probably too amped up on adrenaline, but it was the same place that he had rescued Quaxo the first time.

He couldn't be there, could he?

Did he even remember the place?

He was so terribly young when Munk found him, but his eyes were open. He was walking around for what must have been hours.

The Jellicle protector shook his head in frustration.

Why was he still standing here?

It may be a long shot, but it was all he had right now.

And given the circumstances, that would have to be enough.

#

It didn't take long to reach the grove of trees again, though it looked considerably different during the daytime and without the snow. He had searched for several minutes without luck, but one thing that he did notice was the temperature.

It was getting hot.

 _Unnaturally_ hot.

It wasn't winter anymore, but the Jellicle protector was positively sweating in what should have been moderate conditions.

He tried traveling closer to the source, noting the strange scent in the air. Like something was burning.

Munkustrap's fur stood on end.

Was he smelling fire?

Part of him, _most_ of him, wanted to turn around now. Go back to the junkyard with the hope that Tugger had found him after all. But there was a sinking feeling in his stomach that told him Quaxo was near.

He closed his eyes, trying to find his center.

He hated fire. Despised it. He could only associate it with Macavity and his remarkable ability to set anything – _anyone?_ – to flames.

Munkustrap didn't have the luxury to harp on that thought, however. It was becoming clear to him that if Quaxo was the one who started the fire, then it was more than likely that he was losing control of his powers.

_"When he's upset everything just seems to...amplify. It can get dangerous for him and everyone around him…."_

That _was_ what Tugger said, wasn't it?

There was no point in waiting around. He knew what he had to do.

Taking a deep breath, the grey tabby charged into the fiery brush. He found inside that the devastation wasn't as far spread as his outside view had made him believe. It was certainly smoky, the ash-filled air making breathing a rather difficult endeavor, but the fire itself only seemed isolated to several trees.

_How peculiar._

Munkustrap continued his search, sweating from the blazing heat and persistently coughing as the unclean air filtered through his lungs. His ability to concentrate was wavering with every passing minute and he would find himself squinting to keep the ash from his eyes, greatly inhibiting his vision.

The Jellicle protector was just about to give up when he came across a peculiar circle of fire. A very unnatural flame formation that licked at the twigs and dead leaves on the ground but did not spread out of its confined area. And lying in the center of that circle was a familiar little tuxedo tom, curled ever so tightly with his head down.

For a second, Munkustrap wasn't sure what to do. He certainly wasn't going to leave the kit out here, especially in the state he was in. Quaxo was not only a danger to other living creatures, but to himself as well. He could feel the guilt eating away at him from the inside.

_You did this._

All he could think about was this poor kitten who had ran off all alone. How long has he been out here for? Did he know what he was doing when he caused these flames? He must be terrified, Munkustrap realized, his heart hurting.

_You did this._

The words kept repeating, over and over again in his head. And they were right, this was because of him.

_"He's scared, he's alone, he thinks you hate him..."_

Did Quaxo believe himself to be a monster?

He stepped over the circle of flames, and slowly inched towards the tiny tux.

"Quaxo?" he said softly, not wanting to startle him.

The tuxedoed kitten raised his head, his eyes widening when he realized who had approached him.

"Quaxo," he repeated. "We need to-"

He never got to finish the sentence. The kit bolted, running faster than Munkustrap thought was possible for a kit of his size. The grey tabby, after getting over his shock, sprinted after him.

It wasn't a contest, really. Munkustrap was bigger and faster than the tiny kitten, and caught up with him in a matter of seconds. He grabbed Quaxo by the scruff and held onto him tightly, though the little tux was not making things any easier.

"Let me go," he screamed, thrashing in the grey tabby's arms. He winced as Quaxo kicked him in the ribs, but didn't release him.

A flash of lightening illuminated the sky.

"Let me go," the kit screamed again, tears running down his face.

Another lightning strike.

Munkustrap realized, perhaps too late, that he would need to calm down the hysterical kit or they both might end up fried. Quaxo was clearly causing the lightening but had no control over it. He might accidentally end up electrocuting both of them.

"I'm sorry, little one," he whispered, tightening his grip as Quaxo continued to thrash.

He thought back to what Jenny did to calm him down during his worst nights as a kit.

Munkustrap sat down, still holding Quaxo, and began to purr.

"Stop it!" the kit yelled, trying in vain to release himself from Munkustrap's grasp.

He continued to purr, trying to sooth the terrified kitten.

A third bolt of lightening struck, terribly close to where the two toms were sitting.

"Just breathe, little one," he whispered. "Breathe for me."

Quaxo's thrashing eventually died down, leaving the occasional twitch or spasm.

"Munkus, please let me go," he sobbed into the older cat's chest.

"Close your eyes," he murmured. "Just breathe."

He wasn't sure how long it took for the sobbing to cease, for the spasms to cease, for the lightening to cease, for the fire to eventually die. But even when it did, Munkustrap didn't allow himself to relax.

He realized then that _he_ was crying. That in itself wasn't unusual, he cried a lot. But….never this _openly_. Crying was an activity reserved for his den, away from the prying eyes of his tribemates. Jellicle protectors did not _cry_. It wasn't in the job description. They didn't cry so that others could. But sometimes….sometimes it was just so…. _hard_. He was always an emotional child, one that turned into an emotional adult. But as he aged he got better at hiding that fact. At bottling everything up. It was the only thing he knew how to do to assert control over his emotional state.

But now…once the tears started rolling, he found that he couldn't stop them. Everything… _everyone_ that went wrong in his life was staring him right in the face. He cried because of his mother. The cat who was supposed to love him above all else. The cat who had _left_ him. Was it something he did? He cried because of his father. His father, who's legacy he will never be able to match. His father who was always there yet somehow _never_ there when he needed him to be. He cried because of his brother. His _baby_ brother who now must hate him after the events of this morning. His brother who may never talk to him again. He cried because of Demeter, the cat he planned to spend the rest of his life with. The cat whom he was supposed to protect yet couldn't. He cried because of Macavity, his friend…his _brother_. Why didn't he see his meltdown coming? The signs were all there, he just didn't care enough to focus on them. Looking back now….it was so blatant. His jealousy, his enthusiasm at inflicting pain on other living creatures. If he had just noticed it sooner….

He looked down at the scrap of fur on his chest.

He was crying because of _him._

The poor kitten who was just as lost and confused as he was.

Quaxo was out cold, his face still wet with tears. It must have been so draining for him, he realized, creating all of the fire and lighting, regardless of whether or not it was on purpose.

He still couldn't believe that such a tiny little thing was capable of so much destruction.

Or…or maybe he could.

Mac wasn't that much older than Quaxo when he discovered his powers. And it certainly didn't take long for simple levitation tricks to turn much more dangerous.

But Tugger was right, Quaxo _wasn't_ Macavity.

He was a sweet kit, a good kit.

A _kind_ kit.

Macavity…he was never kind.

His insanity was always there, lurking beneath his charming exterior. Maybe it wasn't noticeable to Munk then, but it was so clear to him now.

No…Quaxo was nothing like Macavity.

Munk wiped away the remaining tears from his face, feeling nothing now but complete numbness.

_You did this._

_You did this._

_You did this._

He took another look around the smoky remains of the forest, and then back down at the unconscious kit sprawled across his chest.

_I'm so sorry, little one. I've failed you. I've...failed everyone._


	8. Munkustrap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Munk contemplates hiring a shrink.

Munkustrap rose up with the tiny tux firmly in his grasp before making his way back to the junkyard. The fires that his charge had started had now died down, leaving the area full of smoke. It made it hard to breathe or see, but the Jellicle protector was so numb that he could hardly feel the pain of the ash in his eyes or lungs.

He finally made it back to camp with Quaxo slung over his shoulder. The grey tabby was aware of his tribemates eyes boring into him as he made his way past. Some tentatively approached him before looking at the expression on his face and deciding against it. He went straight to his den, hoping to spend the rest of the evening in silence.

But even that didn't appear to be happening. He entered his den to find that it was already occupied. He wasn't sure how long Tugger had been sitting there for, but he did notice the look of relief that flashed through his little brother's eyes upon his entering.

"What are you doing here?" he asked tiredly, placing Quaxo down on some blankets near the corner of his den.

"How is he?"

"Alive."

Tugger frowned.

"That's not what I asked."

"You should have been more specific."

"Munk..."

"Get out of my den, Tugger."

The Maine Coon made no movement to leave.

"I want to know how he is."

"Scared and confused. And feeling like the world is swallowing him whole."

"Him, or you..." his brother mused.

 _"I told you to leave,"_ the Jellicle protector hissed, his patience evaporating.

He could see Tugger flinch, but he still made no indication he was going to comply with his demands.

"No."

Munk threw up his arms in frustration.

"What do you want from me then?"

"I want..."

"Actually," Munk cut in. "You know what? _I don't care._ And if I have to drag you out of here then I will. I am not in the mood for you right now. I don't want to see you, I don't want to hear you. I don't want to _think_ about you."

He had no idea how, but he could feel the tears once again stinging his eyes.

"You are nothing more than a nuisance to me, and I wish to be alone."

A moment of silence passed as Munk tried to regain control of his faculties. He could see out of the corner of his eye his brother staring intently at him.

_Why won't he just leave me alone?_

"I'm sorry," Tugger finally said.

Munkustrap turned to look at him fully.

"What?"

"I said I'm sorry."

"What are you possibly sorry for?"

"For letting you get this bad. I'm your brother. I should have seen this coming. I should have paid more attention."

Munk shook his head.

"It's not..."

"And I'm sorry for what I said to you this morning. I was wrong."

"You weren't."

"I was," Tugger insisted. "You were right. I _wasn't_ there. I wasn't close with him. You saw the stuff Macavity did first-hand, and I'm sorry for not recognizing that. I still don't think you should have taken it out on Quaxo, but I should have been more understanding of your position."

"I don't want or deserve your sympathy."

"Oh, _everlasting_ …."

He grasped his elder brother's shoulders.

"Munk," he pleaded. "Please don't close yourself off. Please don't shut me out. Don't shut any of us out. The tribe needs you."

"They don't..."

"Oh, yes they do. And so does Quaxo," he said, eyeing the little tux.

"I hurt him, Tug. He…he could have died out there. He could have _died_ because of me."

"He's young and still learning how to control his powers. You didn't do anything to him that can't be fixed."

"He hates me."

Tugger shook his head.

"Quaxo doesn't hate anyone. I don't think he's capable of it. And we'll talk to him. We'll _fix_ this."

_Can we?_

"What if _I'm_ the thing that can't be fixed."

"Don't say that."

"It's true."

"It's not."

"Yes, it..."

Munkustrap felt his brother's paw strike his face. It wasn't hard, but the force was enough that it stung.

"You...you hit me!"

Tugger crossed his arms, looking smug.

"And I'll do it again if I have to. Stop feeling bad for yourself. It's not a good look."

Another moment of silence passed, this one longer than the last. Tugger had yet to move, and the grey tabby had a feeling that he wasn't going to leave anytime soon.

"Tug," he finally whispered.

"Yeah?"

"Do you know that thing that cat's do...when they say they're fine but, well, they're not really fine?"

"Yeah."

"Well...I think I'm fine," he said softly. "I've never been more fine in my life."

Tugger drew his brother closer to him.

"You know what? I'm feeling pretty fine myself."

Munkustrap laughed, which was a bad idea as it almost immediately turned to into sobs. They once again racked his body as the grey tabby pressed himself into his brother's long fur. He didn't want Tugger to see his face. It continued on for some time before eventually ceasing, leaving him feeling more sore and tired than he was before. Tugger eased his head down on his lap, stroking his fur.

"You know something, Munk?"

"What?"

"You cry like a queen."

"And you dance like you've broken your pelvis."

"Hey, that's just mean."

"Yet true."

Munk sniffled again.

"Tug?"

"Yes, brother mine?"

"I'm sorry I called you a nuisance."

Tugger scoffed.

"Please, I've been called worse. Actually, I'm pretty sure that _you've_ called me worse."

"Still...I'm sorry."

"Someday you are going to stop apologizing for everything you do or say."

Munkustrap yawned.

"Not likely."

He could feel his brother's warm tongue rasp across his shoulders and onto his back.

"What are you doing?" he murmured.

"Cleaning you. I don't know if you know this, but you look awful."

"I _feel_ awful."

"Yeah well, at least I know I can fix the first thing in a relatively short time frame. Try to sit still, okay?"

"Won't be a problem," he mumbled.

The grey tabby closed his eyes, being lulled to sleep by his brother's rhythmic grooming.

"Oh, and Munk?"

"Hmmm?"

"I love you. I suppose I don't say that enough. But...well, just so it's out there. And that I don't have to say it again for a while."

"Tug?"

"Yeah?"

"You're an absolute idiot. And I love you too."

#

He wasn't sure when he had fallen asleep, probably sometime while his brother was grooming him. When he woke, he felt marginally better than before, though in all honesty it would be hard to feel worse. Tugger had left the den, leaving the grey tabby curled underneath one of his many blankets.

It took him perhaps too long to remember that even without the Maine Coon's presence that Munkustrap was not the only cat occupying his den. Quaxo was still there, though he was now awake and sitting upright. The tiny tux's eyes were glued on him.

_How long has he been awake for?_

Munkustrap suddenly felt uncomfortable, not entirely sure how to converse with the kit after the day's events.

The Jellicle protector sat up, wincing slightly at the bruises that were beginning to form from Quaxo's earlier meltdown.

He cleared his throat.

"Why…."

"Tugger said not to wake you," the little tux cut in softly.

_Of course he did._

It occurred to him that Tugger must have convinced the kit to stay in his den in the first place instead of running away again. He had no idea how.

Munk sighed, rubbing his eyes.

_Where do I even begin?_

"Why were you crying?" Quaxo finally asked.

Munkustrap paused.

No, he was not expecting that.

"What?"

"Why were you crying?"

"You...uh, you saw that?"

Quaxo nodded. There was no judgement in the kit's eyes. Only curiosity.

A moment of silence passed as he tried to figure out what to say.

"I'm…not sure I'd be able to explain it, little one."

"I didn't know that adults cried. I thought that they weren't allowed to."

_Where did he hear that?_

"I was upset," he said finally.

"With me?"

"No...yes. It's...complicated. I was upset about a lot of things. Things that I had been compartmentalizing for a while. And I think seeing you cry just pushed me over the edge."

"Why?"

Munkustrap gave him a soft smile.

"The world is complex, kitten. When you get older sometimes you look back on all the things you did and think about every decision you've made... it can drive a cat mad. It drives me mad. Sometimes I spend so much time thinking about the past that I forget about the now. And I was sad because of how sad I made you. I promise little one, I didn't mean to scare you."

Quaxo remained silent for a second.

"I think I saw my mother cry once," he murmured, averting his gaze.

Munkustrap's eyes widened.

"You remember her?"

"I...a little. She was white, I know. And she seemed so sad all the time. I don't think she liked me very much."

_Join the club..._

"Do you think it's because of my powers?" he continued. "Is...is that why she left?"

"I don't think there's any way to know," he responded quietly.

Quaxo looked back up at him, eyes watering.

"I didn't mean to, Munkus. I'm sorry I kicked you. And set the forest on fire. And-"

"Quaxo..."

"I can't control it! I...I don't know how."

"Quaxo, I..."

"If you don't want me here..."

"Quaxo, hush," Munk interrupted sternly.

"I don't blame you, for anything. What happened was my fault. I pushed you. I shouldn't have scared you like that. Please, don't blame yourself."

"You shouldn't blame yourself either."

"I have a tendency to do that, don't I?"

Quaxo rose from his makeshift nest and made his way over to Munkustrap's. The tiny tux curled himself against the larger cat, purring contently.

"You're more comfortable than the floor," he murmured.

"Well, at least I'm good at something."

Another pause.

"Munkus?"

"Yes, little one?"

"Why did you kick Macavity out of the tribe?"

He hesitated in answering. To be honest, he wasn't quite sure what to say. They had broached the topic before, but Munkustrap was careful to leave out the more gruesome details. Now, however, he felt as though Quaxo deserved to know the whole story. Macavity was, after all, the only other cat he knew capable of magic.

"Did you know that Macavity and I used to be friends?"

Quaxo shook his head.

"Best friends, actually. I considered him a brother."

"What happened?"

"We were both young when he discovered his powers. The tribe hadn't seen anything like it before. He thought it made him special. I suppose it did, in a way. Nobody was sure where his abilities came from. Regardless, he was unhappy that Old Deuteronomy chose me to be the next protector of the tribe. He believed that he should have been chosen as he was the most powerful among us."

"Was he?"

"I...yes, I suppose."

"Then what?"

"I think it drove him mad. He would disappear for long periods of time. Nobody knew where he went. And no one dared question him either. Then one day he came back, intending to force Old Deuteronomy to abdicate and put him in charge."

"You stopped him though, right?"

"It...was a group effort. But he killed Percy, our previous protector. That's how I became the new one. And we banned him from coming back. He's...well he's only gotten worse since then. He hates us, which I suppose is fair, but then again he doesn't seem to like anybody. He hurts cats, Quaxo. He hurts cats without a second thought."

"He hurt cats with his magic?"

"Yes, Quaxo."

"Was that why you yelled at Tugger and I this morning?"

Munkustrap sighed.

"I'm not going to lie to you, Quaxo. I...I don't like magic. I don't trust it. But I admit I've only experienced it when possessed by a cat capable of great evil. It has biased my outlook, certainly."

He wrapped his tail around Quaxo's little body.

"It was terribly difficult seeing Macavity turn down a path I couldn't follow. I still think that perhaps there was something I could have done..."

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes.

"Munkus, are you okay?" Quaxo whispered.

"No. No, but I will be."

He opened his eyes again, looking down at the tiny kit in his lap.

"I promise you, little one, I will not make the same mistake with you as I did with Macavity. You are a good cat, Quaxo. You are bright, you are kind. You are capable of so much _good_. And I will help you in any way I can. Do you understand?"

The tuxedoed kitten nodded.

"So you're not kicking me out?"

"Of course not. Don't ever think that I will."

Quaxo smiled, laying his head back down.

"Can I stay in your den tonight, Munkus?"

The grey tabby nodded, stroking the kitten's soft fur.

"Thank you," he yawned, snuggling deeper in his lap.

_"Always."_


	9. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Macavity continues to ruin Munk's day.
> 
> feat. Baby!Tugger

_"Where have you been?"_

_Munkustrap watched as his friend entered the junkyard through the hole in the chain link fence._

_"Been keeping tabs on me, Munk?"_

_"Just curious as to your whereabouts," he replied simply, eyes never leaving the ginger tom._

_"I don't believe that is any of your concern."_

_"It will be, soon."_

_"Soon?"_

_Macavity laughed._

_"Old Percy about to bite it, huh?"_

_Munkustrap bristled._

_"Of course not. But he is considering retirement..."_

_"Well, I'm so 'terribly' proud of you. I'm sure you've deserved your position."_

_"I've worked hard," Munk replied sternly. "Unlike you, I train every day."_

_Macavity growled, the smile gone from his face._

_"You don't know what I do."_

_Munk padded towards the ginger tom._

_"I can guess. You have a queen's scent all over you."_

_"Your point?"_

_Munk shrugged._

_"I notice that it's a different one from last time."_

_Macavity's eyes narrowed into slits._

_"Your point?" he repeated, harsher than the last._

_"I 'thought' you and Demeter…"_

_"You thought what?" Macavity cut in icily. "That we're together? That we're happily mated? Is that what you thought?"_

_Munk's eyes widened._

_"You mean…you guys aren't…"_

_"She doesn't want me," Macavity snarled, tearing at the grass beneath his paws._

_Munkustrap couldn't help notice a feeling of warmth that was growing within him. A feeling that he wasn't quite able to comprehend._

_"Maybe she just wasn't ready for a relationship," he offered gently._

_The ginger tom shook his head._

_"No. She has eyes for someone else."_

_"Really? Who?"_

_"You really aren't the brightest, are you Munk?" Macavity laughed bitterly. "It doesn't matter. I 'will' get Demeter to love me. You can mark my words on that. Now get out of my way."_

_Munkustrap tried not to flinch._

_"You can't just make someone love you, Mac."_

_"I said to get out of my way."_

_"I'm not moving until you tell me why you are leaving all the time. What are you doing out there?"_

_"Haven't we already established that?"_

_"Asides from the obvious."_

_Macavity raised his eyebrows._

_"You should join me, Munk. There's more to life than this junkyard."_

_The grey tabby crossed his arms._

_"The junkyard is my life."_

_"And 'this' is why you can't get laid."_

_"That's not..."_

_"Anyways," Macavity interrupted. "Who knows? You might even see your mother out there if you look hard enough."_

_"Don't bring my mother into this," he snarled._

_"Awfully protective, aren't we? Seeing as she abandoned you and all that. Do you think she walks the streets? Spends every night with a different mate..."_

_"I said stop!" he hissed, unsheathing his claws. "She wasn't like that!"_

_Macavity smiled, finding enjoyment in riling up the future protector._

_"Wasn't like that? You don't seriously think that you and Tugger share the same father now, do you?"_

_"I said..."_

_"In fact, one can only wonder if perhaps she reunited with her bastard's father outside the junkyard..."_

_"Mac..."_

_"Maybe that's why she lef-"_

_The ginger tom didn't get to finish sentence as he was tackled to the dirt. He may have magic and the size advantage, but Munkustrap hadn't been lying about the extent of his training. He certainly wasn't a kit anymore, and there were few left in the tribe that could take him one on one. Unless, of course, there was magic involved._

_For a minute, it was utter chaos. A flurry of claws and fur, hissing and spitting as months of pent-up rage were finally released. It was plain to see by all that their friendship was rapidly deteriorating. Macavity spent more time away from the tribe than with them, and seemed to find no other pleasure than making everyone else as miserable as he was. Munkustrap didn't consider himself a violent cat, but could be incredibly threatening when pushed over the edge._

_"STOP!" A booming voice called out. Munkustrap felt another set of claws dig into his shoulder and yank him away from Macavity._

_He panted, looking up to meet Percy's cold gaze._

_'Oh no.'_

_The two toms had apparently been making a scene, it seemed as though half the junkyard was gathered around them. Some looked invested, other looked fearful._

_"Either of you care to explain?" Percy hissed._

_Munkustrap looked at Macavity, who too was breathing heavily. The grey tabby had gotten a couple of good strikes in, he could see claw marks gracing the ginger tom's side and face. The wounds weren't too deep, but they looked painful._

_"I 'asked' a question," Percy growled when neither tom made a move to respond._

_"We were training," Mac muttered._

_Even though Percy was getting up there in age, he was still threatening, even to cats like Macavity. Sturdy and well-muscled, Percy was a brawler, and a great one at that. Munkustrap could only imagine what he was like back in his prime._

_"Oh, is this what we are calling that egregious display?"_

_"Percy..." Munk started. The older cat's subsequent glare was acidic, stopping the grey tabby on his tracks._

_"Macavity, return to your den. You are not to leave until I tell you too."_

_The ginger tom looked like he wanted to argue, but thought it best not to push it further._

_"You too," he growled to Munk. "We will speak later."_

_Munkustrap held his head down as he pushed his way through the cluster of cats. His den seemed so much farther away when being glared at with many pairs of accusatory eyes. When he did reach his den, he all but collapsed. He closed his eyes, hoping that he would wake up and realize everything was just a dream._

_His ride on the self-pity train didn't last long however, when he felt the weight of a kit landing directly on his back._

_"Ouch," he hissed, shaking the weight off of him. "Aren't you supposed to be in the nursery?" he asked his little brother, who was now pouting on the floor._

_"The nursery's boring," he protested. "Anyways, Teazer said that you tried to kill Macavity earlier. Is it true? Is it?"_

_"Maybe you should stop spending so much time around Rumpleteazer," he muttered._

_"Well, Teazer heard it from Bomba who heard it from Admetus who heard it from George and George says you jumped on him and were clawing his eyes out..."_

_"Tugger!" Munk yelled, tossing a pillow in his general direction. "Go find someone else to bother. I'm not in the mood."_

_"I'm not a bother. I'm curious."_

_When Munk failed to respond, the small golden tom leapt into his nest, curling up next to him._

_"It's okay," he said. "I don't like Mac much anyways. He probably deserved it."_

_Munk wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. Maybe both. He wrapped his tail around his little brother, finding comfort in his company._

_"Munk!" Tugger whined. "It's too warm..."_

_"Too bad," Munkustrap interrupted. "You can't leave now. Maybe you'll think twice about barging into my den."_

_Tugger groaned but made no movement to leave._

_The moment didn't last long, however. Munk raised his head when he heard pawsteps approach the doorway. His stomach dropped when Old Deuteronomy entered._

_'Oh no.'_

_Tugger, however, was thrilled._

_"Daddy!" he screamed, leaping from Munk's nest and barreling into his father's thick, shaggy coat._

_"And how are you, young one?" Old Deuteronomy purred._

_"I'm good," Tugger said happily. "But George said that Munk tried to kill Mac today so he's not good..."_

_'Thanks a lot, Tug.'_

_Munkustrap felt his father's eyes boring into him as Tugger continued to leap on the old tom._

_"...and Teazer said that..."_

_"Rum Tum Tugger," Old Deuteronomy gently interrupted. "I would love to hear the rest of your story, but I need to speak with your brother right now."_

_Tugger frowned._

_"No one 'ever' wants to listen to me," he pouted._

_"That's not true," Deuteronomy chuckled. "And I will visit you later. But I have more important matters to attend to right now. Do you understand?"_

_"I guess..."_

_"Good. Now go back to the nursery like the well behaved kit I know you to be."_

_Munk almost choked. "Tugger" and "well-behaved" didn't belong in the same sentence. He watched the kit leave with his tail dragging behind him. Old Deuteronomy then made his way across the den, taking a seat next to his older son._

_"So," Munkustrap cleared his throat. "I'm guessing Percy..."_

_"Look at me, son."_

_Munk looked up, withering underneath his father's gaze. He could feel the tears forming in his eyes._

_'Stop crying. You're not a kit, for Heavyside's sake.'_

_"Care to explain to me what happened today?" Old Deuteronomy asked calmly. There wasn't any judgement in his voice, but no sympathy either._

_"Macavity and I got into a fight," he said softly, trying to stop his voice from shaking._

_"So I've been told."_

_The grey tabby dropped his gaze, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe._

_"Son, I need to you look up at me while you talk."_

_"Yes father," he whispered._

_"Why did you attack him?"_

_"He started it..."_

_"Really? Because I have multiple accounts that say you were the one to strike first. Is that true?"_

_"Yes, but..."_

_Munkustrap trailed off._

_"But what?"_

_"I...I wanted to know where he was going. I mean, he leaves the junkyard all the time. I just wanted to know what he was doing, is all."_

_"But that is not your place to know, is it?"_

_"I suppose not," he mumbled. "But...well, I just remember when mother would leave all the time. And I wanted to know where she was going. And then she just...left. She left and she didn't come back. I can't help but think that Macavity would do the same."_

_"Is that why you attacked him?"_

_"No, father. He...well, he said some things that I didn't agree with."_

_"What things, Munkustrap?"_

_"He implied mother was a streetwalker. And...he called Tugger a bastard. I...I couldn't let that stand. It was a matter of honor, sir."_

_Old Deuteronomy shook his head._

_"There is nothing honorable in bloodshed, Munkustrap."_

_"But father..."_

_"Macavity is facing his own demons, son."_

_"But that doesn't make it right!"_

_"No. And he should not have said those things. But you must not sink to his level. If you do so, you are no better than he is."_

_"I know, father."_

_"I'm disappointed in you, Munkustrap."_

_"I 'know' father," he sniffled._

_Neither of them talked for a while after that. He hated that he disappointed his father, his tribe. He knew he had to be better, he had to be above name calling and picking fights. Especially picking fights with the cat who used to be his best friend._

_"Son?" his father said, shaking him from his thoughts._

_"Yes sir?"_

_"Regardless of what happened today, I want you to know I am proud of you."_

_"But you just said..."_

_"Being proud and being disappointed aren't mutually exclusive ideas."_

_Munkustrap sniffled again._

_"Come here," the older tom said, enveloping his son in a hug._

_"I know I have placed many expectations on you, especially at a young age. And for that, I apologize. But my dear child, don't forget to live. To enjoy what life has to offer. And most of all, don't forget who you are. I didn't choose you to be our next protector because you are my kit. It is because I truly believe you are the best for the job. You have the biggest heart of any Jellicle, and you will go on to do great things. Do you understand?"_

_The grey tabby nodded._

_"Yes father. And I promise, I won't let the Jellicles down."_

_"I know you won't. Now, try to get some sleep while you can. I imagine Percy isn't going to let you off as easy as I have."_

_"I will."_

_"Good." Old Deuteronomy rose from Munk's nest and made his way to the exit._

_"I suppose I have to make good on my promise to your brother. He does love to listen to himself talk."_

_"Father?" Munkustrap asked._

_"What is it, child?"_

_"Does it...does it bother you, the things they say about Tugger? I mean...that...well, that he might not..."_

_"I'm going to stop you right there, Munkustrap. Tell me, would you love your brother any less if someone had told you that you weren't related by blood?"_

_"Of course not!" he exclaimed._

_"Then I believe you have answered your own question. Rum Tum Tugger is my son, regardless of how he came to be conceived. And now I must bear the responsibly of listening to his, what I am sure to be stimulating, stories for the remainder of the night. Do pray for me, child."_

_For the first time today, Munkustrap smiled._

_"Sure thing father."_

_He watched Old Deuteronomy leave, suddenly feeling very alone. He curled up even tighter in his nest as he tried to get some sleep. He didn't want to think about what tomorrow would bring._


	10. Quaxo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quaxo knows things, Demeter knows even more things, Bustopher knows absolutely nothing, and Victoria is just here to have a good time.

Quaxo decided that he did not like the nursery.  
  
He did not like it one bit.  
  
It was very noisy and made his head hurt. It was very messy and he couldn’t walk around without tripping over something. It was very small and all of the kittens were bumping into each other.  
  
And making noise.  
  
He _hated_ the noise.  
  
He missed his mother’s den. He missed snuggling up with her at night and reading stories. He missed it when she sang to him and let him watch her while she sewed. He missed the _space._  
  
Quaxo didn’t like it when the other kittens touched him and rolled on top of him and jumped all over him. It made him...u-n-c-o-m-f-o-r-t-a-b-l-e.  
  
None of the other kits were _mean_ or anything. But they were....what was it?  
  
H-y-p-e-r?  
  
V-i-g-o-r-o-u-s?  
  
E-x-u-b-e-r-a-n-t?  
  
And had a much higher willingness to be social.  
  
Tumble and Pounce liked to do nothing more than wrestle and backflip. Electra and Etcetera and Jemima just started talking and that’s all they seemed to do now.  
  
Talk and talk and talk and talk....  
  
Quaxo frowned, laying his head down.  
  
Did he mention he hated noise?  
  
He hated noise.  
  
And he hated fighting, even if it was just for play. He was far too small to keep up with Pounce and Tumble and preferred to dance. Ballet, to be exact.  
  
They had asked him one day why he liked ballet so much. They said that it was too hard and that it took way too much effort.  
  
“But I like it _because_ it is hard,” he tried telling them. “Easy things are boring.”  
  
They glanced at one another looked rather p-e-r-p-l-e-x-e-d, but left him alone.  
  
And he was okay with that, being alone. It gave him time to think. To _learn._  
  
Aside from dancing, the one thing Quaxo liked to do above all was read. His mother was one of the few in the tribe that knew how to read because of the time she spent with her humans, and she had taught him the basics. It didn’t take long for Quaxo to pick up written l-a-n-g-u-a-g-e, and it took even less time for him to burn through all of mother’s books.  
  
He often found himself s-c-r-o-u-n-g-i-n-g the junkyard in search of more novels (accompanied by an adult, of course), with varying degrees of success.  
  
He was laying now, sprawled on his stomach, with his nose stuck in what was called a d-i-c-t-i-o-n-a-r-y. There were no stories in it, but there were plenty of words!  
  
Quaxo was learning so many new words, like p-r-e-c-i-p-i-t-a-t-e and e-p-h-e-m-e-r-a-l and l-o-q-u-a-c-i-o-u-s and...  
  
“Quaxo, Quaxo!”  
  
The little tux looked up to see Etcetera running towards him.  
  
_Speaking of l-o-q-u-a-c-i-o-u-s …_  
  
“What is it?” he asked, trying to ignore the ringing in his ears.  
  
“Ummm so I heard from Plato that ‘pparently Victoria is coming back from Bus...Buso...um....”  
  
“B-u-s-t-o-p-h-e-r?”  
  
She nodded.  
  
“Yeah, him. This afternoon, he said. Isn’t that great?”  
  
“That’s s-p-l-e-n-d-i-d.”  
  
Etcetera frowned.  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“It means really good.”  
  
“Oh. I don’t know any big words like you do.”  
  
“I can teach-“  
  
The dilute tabby grabbed the d-i-c-t-i-o-n-a-r-y from his paws before he had time to finish, eyebrows furrowed.  
  
“What do these little smudges even mean?” she asked.  
  
Quaxo tried to hide his smile.  
  
“Those are _words_ , Cettie.”  
  
“Like...like what we speak?” another voice piped up.  
  
He could see Electra’s head poke out from behind her sister, eyes drawn to the book.  
  
“Yeah, exactly. Every word we speak is written in the d-i-c-t-i-o-n-a-r-y. And each word is made of l-e-t-t-e-r-s which have different sounds....”  
  
“I’m confused,” Cettie interrupted, eyebrows still furrowed.  
  
“Well _I_ think it’s cool,” Electra retorted. “I want to learn how to read.”  
  
“Well not me. It’s too _hard_.”  
  
Quaxo could smell an a-l-t-e-r-c-a-t-i-o-n brewing.  
  
_“Why do we need to read when we can dance and sing?”  
  
“Because then we’ll be smart like Quaxo...”  
  
“I’m smart!”  
  
“But you can’t read...”  
  
“Ooooh do you think Tuggsie will like me if I could read?’”  
  
“Isn’t he with Bomba?’”  
  
“Where’d you hear that? That’s not true!”  
_  
Quaxo sighed.  
  
Was it socially acceptable to leave?  
  
He was sure they wouldn’t notice his absence....  
  
“Quaxo?” Cettie squeaked, ruining his escape plan.  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“Weren’t you listening?”  
  
“Ummm....”  
  
She rolled her eyes.  
  
“We wanted to know if Tuggsie was...well...you know, _with_ someone?”  
  
“How would I know?”  
  
“Aren’t you close with him?” Electra asked.  
  
Quaxo suddenly felt really warm. He dropped his gaze to the floor.  
  
“I dunno...”  
  
“Is it true he saved you from a pollicle?”  
  
“That’s _my_ Tuggsie,” Etcetera cooed. “He’s so brave...”  
  
“....and smart....”  
  
“....and _handsome_....”  
  
“Can... can I have my d-i-c-t-i-o-n-a-r-y back?” Quaxo asked weakly.  
  
#  
  
The little tux couldn’t be happier when word came that Victoria had arrived. She was his best friend, and he missed her terribly.  
  
He knew it was important for her to spend time with her Uncle B-u-s-t-o-p-h-e-r, but she was one of the few cats that actually understood him and his.... _e-c-c-e-n-t-r-i-c-i-t-i-e-s._  
  
Quaxo was aware that Munkus didn’t want him to tell anybody about his magic, but he simply couldn’t keep it from Vicky.  
  
And she _did_ promise to keep his secret, after all.  
  
He ran out of the nursery to where his friend was standing next to her uncle.  
  
Mr. Jones was....r-o-t-u-n-d.  
  
C-o-r-p-u-l-e-n-t?  
  
I-n-t-i-m-i-d-a-t-i-n-g.  
  
Definitely the last one.  
  
Tumble said that Plato told him that Mr. Jones used to be in the n-a-v-y and would fight off p-i-r-a-t-e-s and all kinds of bad cats.  
_  
“Used to.”_  
  
He wasn’t terribly friendly like Munkus or Skimble, but at least he was p-o-l-i-t-e.  
  
C-o-r-d-i-a-l.  
  
“Hello young tom,” the hefty tuxedo said, looking down at Quaxo. “Are you here to escort my niece?”  
  
Was he always this big? Or was Quaxo just really small?  
  
“Ummm...yessir...” Quaxo stuttered, trying to maintain eye contact.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Victoria stifling a laugh.  
  
“Behave yourself, will you?” Bustopher said pointedly to her. “I was young and in love once myself....”  
  
“I don’t like her like _that_!” Quaxo exclaimed, hoping his face wasn’t bright red.  
  
Bustopher glared at him.  
  
“I...I mean she’s like my sister, sir. That’s all...”  
  
“Hmmph. That’s certainly a shame. You’re definitely more polite than the other hellions I’ve come across in the nursery.”  
  
He turned back to Victoria.  
  
“I don’t want to hear about you getting into any trouble, understand?”  
  
Victoria followed the movement of his lips, and after pausing a moment, nodded.  
  
_“You won’t, uncle,”_ she signed.  
  
Mr. Jones frowned.  
  
“I really do need to learn sign language, don’t I? What is she saying, boy?”  
  
“Ummm...she said you won’t,” Quaxo responded quietly.  
  
“Right. Well, I best be off. I don’t suppose you know where my sons are, do you?”  
  
“Alonzo I think is with Munkus by the tire. I don’t know where Admetus is, sir.”  
  
“Well, two out of three isn’t bad. Good day, children.”  
  
“Bye, sir,” Quaxo said as Victoria waved.  
  
The two kittens watched as the large tuxedo made his way towards the center of the junkyard.  
  
_“Alonzo isn’t going to be happy you ratted him out,”_ Vickey smirked.  
  
“At least he has a father to avoid...” Quaxo murmured. “I wonder what my father was like. Do you think he had magic too?”  
  
Vicky’s eyes widened.  
  
_“Quaxo, we’re in public!”_  
  
The little tux shifted uncomfortably.  
  
“I just wanted to know is all…but I guess you’re right. Do you wanna go to the grassy area near the fence? I have something to show you.”  
  
_“Is it magic related?”_  
  
“That’s why I’m asking!”  
  
Vicky still looked unsure.  
  
“I promise I won’t set anything on fire this time. You know it was an accident, right?”  
  
Vicky crossed her arms.  
  
_“Say that to my burnt whiskers.”_  
  
“Please, Vicky? The only way I can get better at controlling it is if I practice. And Munkus is too busy these days and Tugger doesn’t want to play anymore, and....”  
_  
And?_  
  
“I don’t think anyone here likes me,” he mumbled.  
  
_“That’s not true. I like you.”  
_  
“It feels like you’re the only one.”  
  
_“Miss Jenny likes you.”_  
  
“She’s my mother. She _has_ to like me.”  
  
_“Munkustrap likes you. And so does Tugger. He visits you a lot.”_  
  
“But....what if he doesn’t? He if he just feels o-b-l-i-g-a-t-e-d to like me? You know, because....because of the whole pollicle thing...”  
  
Vicky nuzzled him gently.  
  
_“You’re a little...weird. So what? I think you’re amazing. And I bet he thinks you’re amazing too.”  
_  
Quaxo gave her a soft smile.  
  
“Thanks, Vicky.”  
  
_“Now, are we going or what?”_

#  
  
The two kittens traversed the junkyard, trying to avoid being seen by their tribemates. They didn’t want any more rumors to spread. Or worse, to be followed.

The area in question was secluded behind some broken refrigerators, microwaves, and other various kitchen utensils in the corner of the junkyard, making it a rather _convenient_ hiding place for one to practice magic (if one so desired).  
  
“Alright,” Quaxo said when they reached their destination. “So I’ve been working on a new trick: T-e-l-e-p-o-r-t-a-t-i-o-n.”  
  
_“T-E-L-E....what?”_  
  
“Sorry, the word is a kinda long. It basically means that I can make things disappear and reappear somewhere else.”  
  
Vicky cocked her head.  
  
_“Can’t you already do that?”_  
  
“Yes, but this time I’m going to try it on myself!”  
  
_“Isn’t that dangerous?”_  
  
“Ah, well... I mean, I’ve gotten good at controlling my bouncy ball and other small objects. I think it’s worth a shot.”  
  
Victoria still looked unconvinced.  
  
_“Maybe you should try it on a mouse first?”_  
  
“How? We can’t go outside to catch one and all the ones inside of camp have already been killed!”  
  
_“You can ask Mr. Munkus....”_  
  
Quaxo shook his head.  
  
“He doesn’t like it when I try dangerous things.”  
  
_“So you’re admitting it’s dangerous!”_  
  
Quaxo huffed.  
  
“Just once. I’ll only try it once. And I won’t go far. Just a meter or two, that’s all.”  
  
He could see Vicky hesitate, clearly still not comfortable with the idea.  
  
_“Ok,”_ she eventually signed _. “But please be careful. I don’t want to lose my big brother.”_  
  
Quaxo smiled.  
  
“Technically you’re older than me by a week, _big_ sister.”  
  
Vicky cuffed him playfully.  
  
_“Te...tech...”_  
  
“T-e-c-h-n-i-c-a-l-i-t-i-e-s.”  
  
_“Yeah, that.”_  
  
Quaxo stepped forward a couple of paces, and tried to imagine himself as his bouncy ball, or perhaps any other small object that he had managed to move in the past.  
  
He flicked his wrists forward and found a sudden rush of air in his ears. He opened his eyes to find that he was not in the same position that he was in before.  
  
_Wait...._  
  
Before he realized what was happening, his body collided with the ground.  
  
“Ow,” he muttered, rubbing his leg.  
  
_“Well, it worked. Sort of....,”_ Vicky signed rather sympathetically.  
  
“Great. I’ve succeeded in moving myself upwards, not forwards.”  
  
_“I thought it was rather cool.”_  
  
“My leg hurts.”  
  
_“You were flying for a second….”_  
  
“I think it’s bruised.”  
  
_“…Like a bird.”_  
  
“I see it turning purple before my very eyes.”  
  
Victoria giggled.  
  
_“At least you know that you are able to T-E-L-E....oh, you know what I mean.”_  
  
He shook his head, frustration building within him.  
  
“I want to know what I did wrong. I can’t fix it if I don’t know what I did wrong.”  
  
“It didn’t work because you are going about it wrong,” an unexpected voice called out.  
  
Quaxo whipped around at the sound. Vicky, realizing that Quaxo heard someone else, turned around as well.  
  
The tuxedo kitten froze.

 _Uh oh._  
  
It was Demeter.

The gold and white queen was standing, arms crossed, next to one of the many broken microwaves.

 _How long has she been here for? Did she see everything?_  
  
His first instinct was to grab Vicky and run. To put as much distance between himself and Demeter as possible.  
  
But he was very small.  
  
P-e-t-i-t-e.  
  
M-i-n-u-t-e.  
  
He wouldn’t get far. Not that the t-a-c-t-i-c would work well anyway. Last time he tried running way, he ended up burning down a forest.  
  
And crying a lot.  
  
But...Demeter didn’t look mad.  
  
He wasn’t sure what she was thinking.  
  
_“Did you tell her?”_ Victoria asked, her signing frantic.  
  
Quaxo shook his head, eyes wide.  
  
“How...how did you...”  
  
Demeter made her way over to the two kittens.  
  
“You aren’t thinking about it the right way,” she said. “You aren’t moving an object. You are moving yourself. Refocus your point of view.”  
  
“But...how do you know that?”  
  
Demeter gave him a soft smile.  
  
“When you spend a large amount of time around a magician, you tend to pick up some things.”  
  
“Who? And...and how long have you known about me? _Did_ you know about me? And if you did, why didn’t you say anything...are you going to say anything...”  
  
Quaxo paused, trying to stop his voice from shaking.  
  
Demeter sighed, bending down to meet him at eye level.  
  
“I suspected,” she murmured. “Magic users...they have a certain scent to them. I can’t quite explain it. But especially after that incident with Tugger and the pollicle…well, it was quite obvious.”  
  
“I....I had to,” Quaxo stammered. “I mean…use my powers on the pollicle. It was hurting Tugger. I didn’t mean to kill it...”  
  
“I’m not _blaming_ you for defending yourself. It’s just….how? How did you kill it?”

“Lightning,” he mumbled. “From my paws. I didn’t even know I was able to do that before.”

“Lightning?” she whispered.

“Is…that important?”

Demeter took a deep breath, and turned towards Victoria.  
  
“Sweetheart, do you mind going back to the nursery? I would like to talk to Quaxo alone.”  
  
Vicky looked hesitant, glancing towards Quaxo. But in the end, she knew better than to disobey an adult. She dipped her head before making her way back towards the Junkyard.  
  
Quaxo gulped, trying to calm his nerves.  
  
A couple of seconds passed without Demeter saying a single word. It looked as though she was...what was it called?

O-b-s-e-r-v-i-n-g him?

No.  
  
A-n-a-l-y-z-i-n-g him?

I-n-s-p-e-c-t-i-n-g him?  
  
“What are you...”  
  
“Your eyes,” she murmured. “How did I not notice it before?”

“Notice what?”

“They look just like…”

She trailed off, looking alarmed.  
  
“Quaxo....I know this may sound strange, but I need to know. How old are you?”

 _What?_  
  
“Almost five months. W-why?”

He could feel the a-n-x-i-e-t-y radiating off of her.

What was wrong?  
  
Did she look…n-e-r-v-o-u-s?  
  
“And your mother….,” she said slowly, “do you remember what she looked like?”  
  
“Old-mother? In the before-time?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Quaxo paused, racking his brain.  
  
He remembered the cold. And he remembered the dark. And he remembered...what did he remember? Another body. Another small body, like his. Was it another kit? And old-mother. She called him r-u-n-t. She didn’t like him. She _left_ him.  
  
He looked up.  
  
“She was white. That’s all I remember. I...I don’t know anything else. I’m sorry.”  
  
Another moment of silence passed. Demeter looked...he wasn’t sure how to describe it.  
  
She looked _far away_.  
  
“Demeter...” he asked softly. “What is going on?”  
  
“This is my fault,” she murmured, mostly to herself. “What happened to you....it’s my fault.”  
  
Quaxo tensed.  
  
“Did...did you know my mother? What’s your fault?”  
  
_And what is wrong with my eyes? And why do you need to know how old I am?_  
  
“Oh, sweetheart,” she said softly, drawing her gaze back to him. “You have no idea of the horror that brought you into this world.”  
  
Quaxo could feel the tears stinging his eyes. He didn’t understand what was happening.  
  
And it f-r-i-g-h-t-e-n-e-d him.  
  
“Did I do something wrong?” he asked, his voice barely audible.  
  
Demeter shook her head.  
  
“You didn’t do anything wrong. You couldn’t possibly have known.”  
  
“Know what?”  
  
She didn’t give him an answer.  
  
“Quaxo....I don’t suppose you’ve felt a strong desire to... _burn_ things, have you?”

 _Did she know about the fire? In the forest with Munkus….._  
  
“N-not on purpose. I try not to but it’s hard sometimes...”  
  
He looked down at his paws.

“I try really hard not to...”  
  
“It’s okay, Quaxo. As long as it’s not on purpose. Controlling your powers will take practice. And patience.”

He felt s-u-f-f-o-c-a-t-e-d by the brief seconds of silence that succeeded her last statement.  
  
“Demeter?” he finally whispered.  
  
“What is it?”  
  
“You...you aren’t going to tell anyone else, are you? About my powers?”  
  
“Who knows already?”  
  
“Tugger and Vicky and Munkus. And...well, _you_ now. But that’s it.”  
  
Demeter shook her head again.  
  
“I won’t tell. For your safety, at least. And I’ll be having words with him later.”  
  
“With Munkus?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Please don’t be mad at him for not telling you,” Quaxo pleaded. “He was just trying to protect me.”  
  
“I’m not _mad_ at him...I’m just...I’m not really sure how to describe what I’m feeling. But I’m not going to do anything about it right now. It’s a lot to take in.”  
  
“ _Oh_.”

She looked up towards the sky, where pink and yellow streaks began to form as the sun set.   
  
“Let me walk you back to the nursery. It’s getting late.”  
  
He didn’t know what else to do but nod.  
  
Quaxo wanted her to explain things to him. He wanted to know more...about magic, about his mother. But he knew she wouldn’t talk about it.  
  
_Yet._  
  
“Do you hate me?” he asked softly as they reached the entrance of the nursery.  
  
It was then that she did something he didn’t expect.  
  
She hugged him.  
  
He felt...warm. Warm and safe.

C-h-e-r-i-s-h-e-d.

  
“No, honey. I don’t hate you. And I will try to help you with...well, with _this_.”  
  
Quaxo sniffled.  
  
“Munkus said that, too.”  
  
“And you should believe him. He is a good cat. A _great_ one, even.”  
  
“You’re a good cat too.”  
  
She smiled, ruffling the top of his head.  
  
“You better get inside. I imagine Jelly isn’t going to be happy that you’re missing out on dinner.”  
  
He watched her leave, suppressing the desire to chase after her and demand an e-x-p-l-a-n-a-t-i-o-n.  
  
He hated not _knowing_ things.  
  
But hopefully, he thought, she will tell him one day.  
  
_Hopefully._


	11. Munkustrap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Macavity lurking, Munkustrap comes to a revelation about Quaxo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: *Watches Jacob Brent's live stream where he says Misto is Old Deut's son and that Macavity has no powers*
> 
> Also me: *is writing this chapter while watching said live stream*
> 
> *Laughs nervously*

It had been a long week.  
  
After being publicly berated by their father for not visiting enough, Alonzo and Admetus were now spending the next few days in the company of Bustopher’s club friends and patrons.  
  
Which was all fine, except for the fact that now the Jellicles were rather short staffed and Munkustrap had to take on more patrol shifts than he would have liked. George had come back earlier this week with some scratches after having a run-in with one of Macavity’s rats. Bombalurina later said she may have spotted another one loitering around the border.  
  
Munk wanted to say this wasn’t a good time for Macavity to come sniffing around, but really, when was it ever a good time? He would have liked to double the number of patrols, but they were strained enough as is, which naturally led the Jellicle protector himself to pick up the slack.  
  
If that wasn’t bad enough, Demeter was unusually quiet this week. She wasn’t refusing to talk to him, but Munk could tell that something was definitely bothering her. He guessed it may have to do with Mac’s sudden reinterest in the junkyard, but they had dealt with scares like that before without Dem giving him the silent treatment. However, he knew that pushing her to talk would only drive her farther away, so Munk kept his distance. She would come to him when she felt ready to.  
  
Then there was the issue of Quaxo.  
  
The little tux had no qualms about voicing his displeasure at nursery life. It seemed like every day there was something else that he was complaining about.  
  
_“But Munkus...why is everybody so loud?”  
  
“They aren’t even talking about anything important! How can you talk so long about nothing?”  
  
“Pounce knocked over my books and he didn’t put them back in a-l-p-h-a-b-e-t-i-c-a-l order!”  
  
“What if I’m going deaf...”_  
  
The Jellicle protector sighed.  
  
It had been a long week.  
  
His little charge had gotten into the rather unfortunate habit of sneaking out of the nursery at night to go back to Jenny’s den. His foster mother, as wonderful as she was, was less than sympathetic and made a point to escort him back with a firm grip.  
  
Munkustrap was much more easily swayed.  
  
He just had such a difficult time saying _no_ to the kit. Whether he knew it or not, Quaxo was incredibly persuasive, with his tiny little body and large brown eyes blinking so _innocently_ at him.  
  
How could anyone say no to that?  
  
He had no idea how Jenny did it.  
  
Regardless, it wasn’t uncommon for Munk of late to wake up with a face full of kitten. Quaxo liked his den much more than the nursery, and Munkustrap was too soft to force him back.  
  
“ _You’re doing him no good by babying him_ ,” Jenny had warned him. “ _He’s far too old to be co-sleeping with you_.”  
  
Oh, he _knew_.  
  
And he was trying his best.  
  
Munk thought himself rather successful earlier this week when he actually managed to convince Quaxo to go back to the nursery with nothing more than a few gentle words (and the promise of rice pudding - _that_ Jenny didn’t need to know about.)  
  
The little tux eventually agreed under those conditions.  
  
_Well that was....easier than expected._  
  
It didn’t feel great bribing the kit with treats, but _hey_.....it worked.  
  
....right?  
  
He slept well that night, leaving his den just before sun rise to wake up his brother for dawn patrol.  
  
He knew for a fact that Tugger would never wake up on his own - he was a night owl through and through. He had always been this way, ever since kit-hood. And if there was anyone feeling Alonzo’s absence more than Munk, it was Tugger, who hated getting his mane tangled and dirty while on patrol.  
  
He entered his den with bucket of water in paw, Munk finding it the most effective method of waking him up - _the Maine Coon slept like a rock_ \- but instead found something he didn’t expect.  
  
Quaxo must have made a field trip in the middle of the night, because the little tux was nestled, quite comfortably it looked like, on Tugger’s back.  
  
It took a second for Munk to even realize he was there, the tux was so small and his brother’s mane so large and fluffy, it almost swallowed him whole.  
  
The Jellicle protector had to hold back his laughter as he placed the bucket down.  
  
_Clever little minx._  
  
And of course, Tugger was none the wiser, sleeping away without realizing he was hosting a tiny interloper.  
  
Munk briefly considered just leaving them there, taking on the dawn patrol himself - _they were awfully cute_ \- but he knew if he didn’t break Quaxo of this unfortunate habit of seeking refuge in other cats dens to avoid the nursery, then he may never be able to live independently as an adult.  
  
Still, the little tux’s relationship with his younger brother was rather charming. Charming and a bit strange, perhaps. One seemed to forget that Tugger himself was only a year older than Quaxo, but he was so big and full of personality (and _himself_...cough cough...) while Quaxo was so small and...well, _Quaxo_ , that it was easy to make that mistake.  
  
But it was clear that both toms held each other in high regard. Quaxo especially, who had such a revulsion of being touched, had enough trust in Tugger to literally _fall asleep_ on his back.... _yes_ , it was charming.  
  
That however didn’t stop Munk from breaking up the one-sided sleepover.  
  
The process of detaching the kitten from his younger brother’s mane without waking either cat up was a challenge in of itself. As he carried Quaxo back to the nursery, he couldn’t help but feel as though his charge may never end up socializing with the other kits.  
  
And that was what worried him.  
  
#  
  
He had visited his humans today, something he had to remind himself to do every once in a while. The human kit was soon leaving for…. what was it called?

Un…uni…uv-sity? Something like that, and Munk didn’t have any real reason to stick around once she left. According to the writing on her wall, it was “July”. He wasn’t sure what the word meant, but he knew “July” meant that it was summer.  
  
And summer meant it was hot.  
  
He was dripping wet by the time he got home, having enough of being petted and held and fed some rather unappetizing looking brown flakes that were theoretically edible.  
  
Instead of going to bed like he would have preferred, he got ready for the nighttime patrol. There was luckily nothing new to report, but the musky scent of Macavity and his henchcats still lingered.  
  
It was driving him mad.  
  
What was he planning? Was he going to attack?  
  
Munk shook his head in frustration, dragging himself to his den.  
  
George was taking the overnight shift, so at least he would be able to get a good night’s sleep. And sleep he did, passing out as soon as his head hit the pillow.  
  


As life would have it, the sweet release of slumber didn’t last long.  
  
“Munkus?”

 _Oh, for the love of…_  
  
The grey tabby groaned, blinking open his eyes.  
  
Little Quaxo was in front of him, eyes wide and lips trembling.  
  
_No, I’m not dealing with this tonight_.  
  
“Quaxo, what did I tell you about sneaking out of the nursery?” he asked tiredly, trying to mask the annoyance in his voice.  
  
“But Munkus...”  
  
“You can’t keep doing this, little one. And I can’t keep letting you.”  
  
The little tux blinked, tears forming in his eyes.  
  
_Was he crying?_  
  
That was...new.  
  
“I had a bad dream,” he whispered, barely audible.  
  
Munk knew a fair amount about bad dreams. He was no stranger to them himself, especially during his childhood. Macavity left him with plenty of scars that stuck with him well into adulthood.

And Quaxo?

Maybe he shouldn’t be surprised that the sensitive magical kitten would be having bad dreams.  
  
He sighed, forcing himself to sit up.  
  
“Do you want to talk about it?”  
  
“D-do I have to?”  
  
Munk frowned.  
  
“That _is_ why you came here, isn’t it?”  
  
The little tux shifted uncomfortably, suddenly finding interest in the floor.

 _Everlasting, I’m too tired for this._  
  
“Quaxo, do you need me to escort you back to the nursery? Or are you capable of finding it yourself?”  
  
“I’m not lying,” he sniffled. “I promise I’m not lying.”  
  
“I’m _not_ accusing you of lying, little one,” Munk responded, softening his tone. “But we all have bad dreams. That’s not an excuse to sneak out of the nursery. I explicitly told you not to do it.”  
  
Quaxo looked back up at him, eyes still watering.  
  
Munkustrap could feel his heart breaking.  
  
_Seriously, how could anyone say no to that face?_  
  
“Alright, alright,” he groaned. “Come up here.”  
  
Quaxo gave him a soft smile before leaping onto the older cat’s nest.  
  
“Thank you, Munkus,” he murmured, nuzzling his side.  
  
“I’m not letting this go,” he said firmly. “I want you to talk about it. It _will_ help you.”  
  
“Did it help _you_?” he asked.  
  
_He’s got me there.  
  
.....wait a second...._  
  
“How did _you_ know about my dreams?”  
  
“You cry out sometimes when you sleep,” the tiny kit murmured. “It’s okay, Jenny says I do that too.”  
  
Munkustrap closed his eyes, trying to pretend there wasn’t a large migraine forming from lack of rest.  
  
He was half tempted to ask the kit what exactly he was saying in his sleep, but the more he thought about it, the more he _really_ didn’t want to know.  
  
“I still have some...unresolved issues,” he finally said. “But talking about it _has_ helped.”  
  
He paused.  
  
“Mostly.”  
  
Quaxo didn’t respond immediately, pressing his face into Munk’s side. When he finally looked back up, he had stopped crying, but his eyes were still puffy.  
  
“Red eyes,” he murmured.  
  
“What?”  
  
“It’s what I see. Red eyes. They’re scary. And....and spiky fur. And....I don’t know. I keep forgetting everything I see. It’s always so c-a-l-i-g-i-n-o-u-s.”  
  
_Cal....what?_  
  
If the situation wasn’t so serious, Munk might have found amusement in the fact that this little kitten found more entertainment in reading a dictionary than he did….well, _being a kitten._  
  
But this was serious.  
  
Red eyes?

Spiky fur?  
  
“Is there anything else you can tell me?” he asked cautiously, hoping that the thoughts brewing in his head were just a result of his propensity for paranoia. “Are you only seeing one cat? Is the cat with the red eyes also the one with the spiky fur? Do you know what _color_ the fur is?”  
  
The kit blinked at him, taken aback.  
  
“I...I don’t know. I don’t remember. I think so. The eyes are very....glow-y? E-e-r-i-e. I don’t like it.”  
  
Munk didn’t respond, his mind whirling. He _did not_ like where this was heading.  
  
“Munkus...is there something wrong?”

 _When isn’t there?_  
  
“No...no, I’m...Quaxo, have you had this dream before?  
  
“I don’t know. Maybe?”  
  
_Great help._

“I have bad dreams a lot. I don’t sleep very well anymore,” Quaxo mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

 _Tell me about it._  
  
The Jellicle protector stood up, his muscles crying out in agony.  
  
“Well, I can at least help with _that_ problem. I’m going to stop by Jenny’s den.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“She might have something to help you sleep.”  
  
“You’re leaving me by myself?”  
  
Munk gave him a small smile.  
  
“I won’t be long, little one. I promise.”

Quaxo still looked distraught, clawing behind his ears.  
  
Munkustrap ducked under his nest, grabbing a faded yellow blanket with pink flowers sewn in the side. It was made by Jenny, and used to belong to _him_ as a kit. Munk simply did not have the heart to get rid of it.

He was a sentimental beast, what else was there to say?

He wrapped it firmly around Quaxo, who gave a gentle purr in return.  
  
The kit loved being swaddled.  
  
“But what if I dream again?” he asked softly. “What if the cat with the red eyes...”  
  
“I _won’t_ let anyone hurt you.”  
  
“You promise?”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
Quaxo remained silent for a second, weighing his options.

“Okay,” he finally yawned, his exhaustion getting the better of him.  
  
Munk shot him another smile before making his way towards the exit.  
  
_Everlasting, this place is a mess._  
  
He simply didn’t have the time to clean over the last week, and his ever-growing stash of blankets, which were usually folded neatly underneath his nest, were now accumulating dust on the floor. Once this mess was sorted out, he would have to do some spring (summer?) cleaning.  
  
Jenny’s den, however, was always spotless. He had no idea how she did it, with the revolving door of kittens, mice, beetles, and other small creatures that left more chaos and destruction with every step.  
  
“Jenny?” he asked quietly as he entered.

No response.

“Jenny, are you there?” he asked again, his voice raised. Every second he wasted here was another second that Quaxo was alone.  
  
He eventually heard shuffling around the den.  
  
“Munkustrap?”  
  
The tabby queen came around the corner, stifling a yawn.  
  
“Do you realize it’s the middle of the night?”  
  
“Is it?” he responded weakly. “Haven’t noticed....”  
  
She rolled her eyes.  
  
“You’re sleeping schedule is atrocious, young tom. No wonder you are so stressed all the time.”  
  
Munk was pretty sure he was just _born_ stressed, but that was an entirely different discussion.  
  
“Tell me something I don’t know. But I’m actually not here for me tonight.”  
  
Jenny raised her eyebrows.  
  
“Oh?”  
  
“It’s for Quaxo.”

He could see an automatic shift in her demeanor. One he wasn’t quite able to grasp the meaning of.  
  
“ _Please_ tell me he’s still not sneaking out at night.”  
  
“ _Well_...”  
  
“Munkustrap,” she interrupted, placing her paws on her hips. “I _told_ you....”  
  
“I _know_ Jenny,” he responded, unconsciously stepping backward. “But he said he had a bad dream. I was just wondering if you had something to help him sleep.”  
  
“ _Again_?”  
  
Munk frowned.  
  
“What do you mean _again_? You knew about this?”  
  
Her expression softened.  
  
“Bad dreams aren’t really the right word for it. They’re more like…night terrors. Poor thing would constantly wake up screaming. It’s why I kept him with me for so long. I didn’t want him disturbing the other kits.”

 _What?_  
  
“Why didn’t you tell me this?” he exclaimed.  
  
“Dear, night terrors are expected for kits like Quaxo. Little ones like him who have been abandoned or abused...”  
  
“You...you don’t think he was _abused_ , do you Jenny?” Munk interrupted, his chest tightening.  
  
“I don’t know _anything_ about him before he came here. All I know is I have a terrified kitten who would wake up screaming for his mother.”

 _His mother?_  
  
“But...he says he doesn’t remember his mother. He wouldn’t lie, Jenny.”  
  
“He doesn’t seem to remember anything he dreams about. It’s entirely possible he is repressing some of the.... _harsher_ memories.”  
  
Munkustrap sighed, exhaustion permeating every iota of his being.  
  
“That poor kitten...” he murmured, eyes fixed on the floor. “I just wish there was something I can do to help him.”  
  
He felt Jenny’s paw on his shoulder.  
  
“He just needs time, dear. Time and support.”

_From who? From me? I haven’t even figured out my own problems!_

And that wasn’t even acknowledging the fact that Quaxo was a magician, which in of itself could mark him as roadkill in some circles.  
  
Munk pushed her paw off, anger bubbling inside him.  
  
“I can’t possibly give him what he _needs_ ,” he responded bitterly.

  
“And why not?”

_Why not?_

How was he supposed to explain this to her without giving anything away?

“Quaxo’s….well, he’s _special_ Jenny. He’s….”  
  
“Magical?”  
  
Munk’s eyes widened.  
  
“You knew about him?”.

Now it was her turn to look upset.

“About his magic? Of course I do! I am his _mother_ , or at least the closest thing he has to one. I weaned him, I taught him to talk, to sing....you think I wouldn’t notice all of my needles going missing? Or his fur sparkling at night? Or his eyes...”

 _His eyes? What about…..oh…_  
  
The silence that followed hung over both cats, heavy and full of fear and uncertainty.  
  
“He said he saw red eyes in his dream,” Munk finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I only know one cat with red eyes.”  
  
“You said that Macavity’s been hanging around the border?” she asked, knowing full well who the protector was referencing.

Sometimes Munk forgot that Jenny helped to _raise_ Macavity, just had she did Quaxo.

 _And me._  
  
“I don’t know for sure. I haven’t _seen_ him. But I can smell him. And George had an altercation with one of his rats.”

He didn’t like the expression that crossed over Jenny’s face. She looked…. _alarmed_?  
  
“It’s entirely possible that Macavity might find interest in a kit like Quaxo,” Jenny said quietly, eyes heavy with sorrow.  
  
A sudden coldness had gripped the Jellicle protector and squeezed at his heart.  
  
“No,” he responded firmly. “Mac...how would he even know about Quaxo? About...about his powers…about…”  
  
“Munk,” Jenny interrupted. “Dreams are often influenced by our waking lives. It’s our way of processing certain emotions or memories. Can you tell me why Quaxo would be dreaming of Macavity if he had no memory of him?”  
  
Munk took another step back, his mind reeling.  
  
No, he _absolutely_ did not like where this was going.  
  
“Jenny,” he said slowly. “You...you aren’t suggesting that Quaxo...that he’s....”

He could not finish. It was as though the words were not computing in his brain.  
  
“Honey,” Jenny murmured. “You need to breathe. You need to…”

_To what?_

“What if he’s after him? What if…”

“It’s _okay_ ,” Jenny cut in. “He is safe. He is in the nursery which is guarded....”  
  
“Jenny, he’s not in the nursery!” he cried. “He’s in my den…”  
  
“ _You left him alone?_ ” she hissed, eyes flashing.

He didn’t have time to respond.  
  
Munk dashed to through the door, running - _no sprinting_ \- back to his den.  
  
_I left him alone. I left him- Macavity and his henchcats are lingering and I left him alone..._  
  
He burst back into his den, almost doubling over from lack of oxygen.  
  
“Quaxo?” he yelled frantically.  
  
The yellow blanket he had wrapped him in earlier was hanging loosely off the nest, with no kitten in sight.  
  
A sudden feeling of dread washed over the Jellicle protector as the reality of the situation sunk in.  
  
Quaxo was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Usually I post on Thursdays, but there is supposed to be scheduled maintenance tomorrow which may disrupt notification emails, so I'm putting this chapter up a little earlier so those of you that are subscribed can hopefully get notified.


	12. Munkustrap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Macavity is planning something, Munkustrap needs a vacation, Jenny just wants everyone to behave, and Quaxo took over my National Geographic subscription.

There were a million thoughts running through Munkustrap’s head.  
  
Some of them could be considered coherent, but none of them _good_.  
  
It wasn’t that he believed Macavity was incapable of having children. The exact opposite, really. The hidden paw must have been with many queens in his life, perhaps it would have been more shocking if no children at all had resulted from these unions.  
  
No, it was the fact that Quaxo, sweet, innocent little Quaxo, who once cried for almost an hour because he accidentally stepped on an ant during dance practice- _“but what if he had a family?”_ \- would have spawned from the seed of a cat who was incapable of compassion, incapable of _love._  
  
It just didn’t make sense.  
  
But Munkustrap wasn’t really in a state of mind to be thinking hard about anything. In fact, just the process of standing up was a challenge. He was dizzy and winded, and his overused muscles were straining in an attempt to keep him upright.  
  
But what did any of that matter?  
  
Quaxo was _missing._  
  
Just the thought of that poor kitten....  
  
What did Mac want with him?  
  
What would he _do_ to him?  
  
How would he go about rescuing him?  
  
How would....  
  
“Munkus?”  
  
How...  
  
_Wait...._  
  
That voice wasn’t _his_.  
  
“Munkus, are you okay?”  
  
One brown eye peeked out from behind the yellow blanket, which was still draped unceremoniously across his nest.  
  
“Quaxo?”  
  
Another eye appeared as the little tux slowly pushed his face out from behind the soft fabric.  
  
_What....he was here the whole time?  
_  
Sensing the older cat’s confusion, Quaxo quickly explained.  
  
“You were taking a long time and I got bored so I made a blanket f-o-r-t,” he said proudly. “You know...like in the books....”  
  
It took a second for his words to compute in the Jellicle protector’s head.

 _He’s alive. He’s okay. He’s standing right in front of me. He’s….he’s…._  
  
“Munkus,” Quaxo frowned. “You’re all sweaty.”  
  
“Um…wait…what?”  
  
“‘ _Munkus_ ’”, Quaxo repeated, “mother says its i-m-p-o-l-i-t-e to stutter. Why are you all sweaty? Why...”  
  
The little tux didn’t get to finish his sentence as the Jellicle protector scooped him up in his arms.  
  
“You’re okay,” he breathed. “Oh, thank Heavyside....thank...”  
  
He could feel the needle-like prick of Quaxo’s tiny claws as he tried to squirm out of his grasp.  
  
“Help!” he cried. “I’m being p-u-l-v-e-r-i-z-e-d!”  
  
_Oh._  
  
Perhaps he _was_ holding him a bit tight. He placed the very angry looking kitten back on the floor.  
  
“What was that for?” he whined. “You’ve turned my insides into jelly!”  
  
Munk tried holding back his smile.  
  
“I’m sorry, little one. I was just worried.”  
  
“About what?”  
  
_Everything?_  
  
“It’s….nothing major,” he said, trying to keep his voice even. “I promise. I just didn’t intend to leave you alone for that long.”  
  
He could see in Quaxo’s face that he didn’t believe him. He was an exceptionally bright kit, and getting things past him was a harder and harder task the older he got.  
  
“You’re scared of something,” he responded with narrowed eyes.  
  
_Is that a question or a statement?_  
  
He favored the latter.  
  
“I’ve just been a bit...on edge lately.”  
  
“Is it because of Macavity showing up?”  
  
_What?_  
  
“He _hasn’t_ shown up.”

_At least not yet._

“Do I even _want_ to know where you are hearing these things from?” he continued.  
  
Quaxo shrugged, looking slightly embarrassed.  
  
“Plato told Tumble who told Pounce who told...”  
  
“Alright, alright...” Munk cut in. “News travels quickly in the nursery, I can tell.”  
  
“But is Macavity why you’re so a-g-i-t-a-t-e-d? Is he going to attack? Is that why you didn’t want to leave me alone?”  
  
“Quaxo, if I knew the answers to any of your questions then perhaps I wouldn’t look so...what did you say? Agitated? I just _overreacted_ when I didn’t see you immediately. That’s all there is to it.”  
  
Quaxo remained silent for a minute, and Munkustrap was afraid he might press further.  
  
“Alright,” he said finally, still looking slightly suspicious.  
  
Munk wanted nothing more now then to relax, but his heart was still beating incredibly fast.  
  
“Munkus,” Quaxo said softly, “maybe you should sit down?”  
  
“I’m _fine_.”  
  
The little tux raised his eyebrows but didn’t push the matter.  
  
“Did you get the sleeping stuff from mother?”  
  
“The....huh?”  
  
“You know....you said you were going to get something to help me sleep. So I won’t dream about the red eyes and the....”  
  
“Quaxo!” Munk interrupted quickly. “Let’s not talk about that anymore, alright?”  
  
The last thing he needed right now was the little conjurer discussing Macavity when his rats were prowling around outside. It sent a shiver up his spine. He had given his former friend a perfect opportunity to snatch the kit after he left him alone, and yet he didn’t make a move.  
  
Maybe...maybe he _wasn’t_ here for Quaxo?

  
Munk tried not to set his expectations too high for that scenario, but then it left many things still unexplained.  
  
_What was he up to?_

Macavity wouldn’t go through the effort of sending his rats to sniff around the border without any cause.  
  
“Munkus?” Quaxo asked, breaking through his reverie. “You didn’t answer the question.”  
  
“What?”

“The sleeping stuff?”

“Oh, um I must have forgot...”  
  
“But _Munkus_...”  
  
“I can go back...”  
  
_Wait..._  
  
He wasn’t about to leave Quaxo alone again.  
  
“Actually, maybe we can go together to Jenny’s. How does that sound?”  
  
“No need.”  
  
He turned around to see the tabby queen herself enter his den. She looked slightly disheveled, though not to the extent that Munkustrap was. She eyed Quaxo cautiously before turning her gaze to the Jellicle protector.  
  
“I would advise not leaving him alone again under these current conditions,” she said quietly, out of Quaxo’s earshot.  
  
“Do you think he’s still after him? Or were we wrong?”  
  
Jenny frowned.  
  
“I’m _never_ wrong,” she replied stonily.  
  
“What c-o-n-d-i-t-i-o-n-s?” Quaxo squeaked in the background.  
  
Maybe they weren’t being as quiet as they thought they were. The two of them turned around to find the little tux pouting on the floor.  
  
“Why don’t the adults ever _tell_ me anything?”  
  
Jenny bent down, giving him a soft smile.  
  
“Because it doesn’t concern you, dear.”  
  
“But Munkus said that Macavity...”  
  
“Now wait a second, I _didn’t_ say...”  
  
“....or his rats or something were outside...”  
  
Jenny swiveled backwards, looking rather....what did Quaxo call it?  
  
Frowny?  
  
“Oh _did_ he now?” she said slowly, it that parental “ _I’m disappointed in you_ ” tone.  
  
Munk threw his arms in the air.  
  
“Listen, I’m _trying_ , okay?”  
  
Jenny glared at him for another moment before focusing her attention back on Quaxo.  
  
“Again, it has _nothing_ to do with you.”  
  
She reached into one of the many pockets in her coat, grabbing what looked like little black specks.  
  
“These are poppy seeds,” she told him. “They should help you sleep tonight.”  
  
The little tux sniffed at them cautiously.  
  
“Dear, they aren’t poisonous, I can assure you.”  
  
“Are you _sure_?”  
  
“Are you _questioning_ me?”

 _Oof._  
  
“N-no mother,” he mumbled, quickly putting the seeds in his mouth.

“Was that so hard?”  
  
“They taste bad,” the little tux grimaced.  
  
“They don’t _taste_ like anything.”

“They are d-i-s-a-g-r-e-e-a-b-l-e to my stomach.”

She shook her head, looking rather exasperated.

Munkustrap was certainly familiar with than expression, for it was a rather _prominent_ feature in his own face.  
  
“And you,” she said, rising up to point at the Jellicle protector, “are going to have some as well.”

 _“I might get i-n-d-i-g-e-s-t-i-o-n.”_  
  
She reached back in her pocket and brought out several more seeds.  
  
Munk’s eyes widened.  
  
“Me? But I’m _fine_...”

 _“I think I’m going to u-p-c-h-u-c-k.”  
_  
“You need sleep, just like everyone else here.”  
  
“But...”

 _“I want Tugger to narrate my funeral.”_  
  
“Munkustrap, you will eat the poppy seeds or everlasting help me I will force them down your throat.”  
  
The funny thing was, she meant every word she said. Always. One simply couldn’t escape from the wrath of Jennyanydots.  
  
Munk, recognizing his defeat, took the seeds from her paw and swallowed them quickly. It felt more like a punishment than an act of charity.  
  
“I _’ve been p-o-i-s-o-n-e-d!”_ Quaxo whined, clutching his stomach in a rather impressive display of agony.  
  
Jenny rolled her eyes.  
  


“Has he _always_ been this much of a diva?” she asked, trying to hide her smirk.

“Usually he’s a bit _better_ behaved.”

“He’s overtired, is what he is.”

She bent back down.

“Come here, sweetheart,” she said, enveloping the little tux in a hug. “You’ll behave yourself tonight, right?”

“Mother, I _always_ behave.”

Jenny nudged Quaxo’s chin up with her paw.

“I love you, kitten. You do know that?”

“Of _course_ I do,” he responded, eyebrows furrowed. “Why are you and Munkus being so weird tonight?”

The two adults exchanged a glance.

“Am I not allowed to tell my children that I love them?” she finally questioned.

“Do you tell Alonzo that?”

She laughed.

“He’s an absolute pain, that one. And yes, I tell him every day. And Addie too, when he decides he wants to grace me with his presence.”

She once again turned to Munkustrap.

“And you as well, dear. Don’t you forget.”

“I _know_ , Jenny,” he whispered.

_Mother._

She too gave him a hug, and Munkustrap almost forget how good it felt just to be touched.

  
“Good luck with him,” she said, drawing away. “I’ll let you be lenient with Quaxo tonight, but I expect him to be back in the nursery tomorrow. Do you understand?”  
  
_Oh I understand. But does Quaxo?_  
  
“I’ll try my best,” he responded.

What else was there to say?  
  
Jenny eyed the two toms once more before exiting.

“Oh, and Munkustrap?” she called out.

“What?”

“Your den is disgusting. I want it cleaned by tomorrow morning.”

_It’s nice to know where her priorities lie…_

“Yes, m’am,” he chuckled, watching her slowly disappear into the night.

Munk went back inside the den and immediately scooped Quaxo off of his floor, the kit scowling as he was placed down on some blankets in the corner.  
  
“Can’t I sleep in your nest, Munkus?”  
  
“Nope.”  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“Because it’s _my_ nest.”  
  
“I am undeserving of such b-a-r-b-a-r-i-t-y.”  
  
Munk sighed, rubbing his temples.  
  
“You have more pillows and blankets here than you could possibly need. In fact, you have more here than you have in the nursery itself. But since I’m such an _amenable_ cat, I’ll let you stay on my nest while I clean this place up.”  
  
The scowl was still present on Quaxo’s face, but he was wise enough not to push his luck. The little tux climbed on Munk’s nest, rolled on his back, and proceeded to stare rather angrily at the ceiling.  
  
“What’s wrong now?” Munk asked, trying to fold what looked like a picnic blanket that he may or may not have nicked from his human’s house.  
  
“I can’t sleep.”  
  
“The poppy seeds will take time to work.”  
  
“How much time?”  
  
“I don’t know.”  
  
“Why _don’t_ you know?”  
  
_For crying out loud…._  
  
Quaxo was never usually this difficult. In fact (all things considered), he was an incredibly well-behaved kitten, which was why his current attitude unnerved Munk more than he would like to admit. But Quaxo said he hadn’t slept well in a while, which hopefully might be the cause of his irritability.  
  
“Why don’t you try counting sheep?” he suggested, trying to retain what was left of his sanity.  
  
“Why?”  
  
“It’s something my human kit used to do to help her sleep.”  
  
“No, I mean...why _sheep_?”  
  
“Because humans are weird? I don’t really have any other explanation for it.”  
  
He placed the now folded picnic blanket on top of his growing pile and reached for a crumpled up baby blue one that once belonged to Tugger.  
  
“Can I count something else other than sheep?”  
  
“Like what?”  
  
Quaxo paused for a moment.  
  
“How about a l-a-m-p-r-e-y?  
  
“That sounds like a disease...”  
  
“No, no they’re super cool! They’re a type of fish but they don’t have a jaw just this funnel thing with teeth and they suck other fish’s blood like a v-a-m-p-i-r-e and...”

_Well that’s….disturbing. But if it gets him to sleep…._

“….and they kind of look like eels but they have super large eyes…”  
  
“Quaxo!” Munk interrupted. “Think of whatever you want, just do it _quietly._ ”  
  
Quaxo grumbled, flopping back into his nest.  
  
It took maybe fifteen minutes of folding for his den to finally regain some semblance of cleanliness, but it was at this point that Munk could really feel the poppy seeds kicking in.  
  
Quaxo had quieted down a couple of minutes earlier, probably getting way too invested in the lifestyle of predatory fish. Munk began the process of transferring his now neatly folded pile of blankets under his nest.  
  
“Alright, little one,” he said, still crouched down. “Up you get. I left you a pretty comfortable makeshift sleeping area on the other side.”  
  
There was no response.  
  
Munk frowned, rising from the ground.  
  
Quaxo was still on his nest, eyes closed and sprawled with his limbs stretched like a starfish.  
  
It took every remaining bit of willpower not to burst out laughing.  
  
“Quaxo?” he asked again, shaking his shoulder gently in case he simply didn’t hear him.  
  
Still nothing.  
  
The kit was out cold.

 _Well, it looks like the seeds worked._ _Or was it the bloodsucking fish?_  
  
Munk paused, weighing his options. He could just carry Quaxo to his assigned sleeping area, but just looking at him lying there so peacefully....  
  
_Everlasting, I’m weak._  
  
He carefully climbed into his nest, trying not to disturb Quaxo with any sudden movements. The little tux must have sensed a new heat source and shifted over to burrow himself in Munkustrap’s fur.  
  


“Hopefully you’ll be less grouchy when you wake up, right little one?” he murmured, stroking the sleeping kitten.

Quaxo gave him a gentle purr, nuzzling his side. _  
_  
After several minutes, the Jellicle protector laid his head down with his arms wrapped protectively around the tuxedo tom, and closed his eyes as sleep finally overtook him.

#

_There was a hole in the fence.  
  
It took him many days to find it.  
  
He was the only one left now.  
  
His brothers and sisters had died.  
  
Most were killed.  
  
But he had finally found a hole in the fence.  
  
He had succeeded where his siblings had failed.  
  
The hole was too small for a cat.  
  
But it was plenty large for a rat._

_For him.  
  
He waited until dark, there were less cats out when it was dark.  
  
Black and white. Black and white. Black and white.  
  
He was told to find the small black and white.  
  
There was a lot of black. And there was a lot of white. But no black and white.  
  
He must be careful. They will kill him if he was seen._

_He went to many dens._

_His saw big. He saw small._

_He saw red. He saw brown. He saw gold._

_But no small black and white._

_He went to the big den._

_The big den in the middle.  
  
He looked inside._

_It was there that he finally found it.  
  
The black and white. _

_And grey._

_They were not moving._

_They were asleep.  
  
The black and white would be easy to kill. His neck was small and fragile.  
  
But he must not kill.  
  
He was told not to kill.  
  
Observe.  
  
Confirm.  
  
Report back.  
  
He left the den.  
  
He left the junkyard.  
  
He had succeeded.  
  
They had searched many places.  
  
Many colonies.  
  
But he finally found the black and white.  
  
He hurried back to tell his master. _

_He would be pleased._


	13. Munkustrap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Macavity flexes his Jedi mind powers and pays Munk a visit.

Munkustrap was dreaming.

He was dreaming of _him_.

Of Macavity.

He could see the fire that tore through the nursery at his paw.

He could see the tree that he split open with his lightening.

He could see the young tom that was ensnared in the flaming branches.

He could see his claw that sunk deeply in Percy's chest.

He could see _him._

At just the right angle, his ginger pelt turned to flames as the sunlight struck it.

And his eyes...

He always had such mesmerizing brown eyes.

Munk tensed.

No, those weren't _his_ eyes. Those were Quaxo's.

And suddenly...Mac wasn't there anymore. In his place stood a small tuxedo kitten.

"Quaxo?" he whispered.

The eyes were the only thing that remained the same.

They were full of anger. They were full of hatred. They wanted to kill.

No...those couldn't be Quaxo's eyes.

Not _his_ Quaxo.

He looked up to see Macavity again.

Or...or was it still Quaxo?

He realized with a shudder that he was unable to tell the difference anymore.

" _Munk_?" the hybrid cat asked him.

That wasn't Quaxo's voice.

" _Munk, wake up_ ," he said again, louder still.

No...no that was an _adult_ voice. It had to be...

" _Wake up_!"

#

He was jolted back into consciousness, gasping for breath.

 _What?.._.

He looked down to see Quaxo curled up next to him, sound asleep.

_It was just a dream. It was a dream. It was..._

What was it?

It felt more like a premonition.

But if that _wasn't_ Quaxo talking, then who...

"Over here."

A large ginger tom stepped out of the shadows, eyes trained directly on him.

No. He was still dreaming. He _had_ to be. Or perhaps it was a trick of the light. Macavity was not here. Not now. Not with Quaxo….

_He's here for Quaxo!_

Almost immediately, Munk leaped out of his nest and positioned himself defensively between Macavity and the tuxedo kitten.

"How did you get in here?" he growled, unsheathing his claws.

Mac raised an eyebrow.

"You're asking a cat capable of magic how he snuck through your defenses?"

"I'm not playing your games tonight, Mac. _How did you get in here?_ "

The smug look on the magician's face enraged him even further.

_What is he playing at?_

"I didn't," he said simply.

"What?"

"I'm not really here."

"You aren't making..."

"Oh, and neither are you."

"Explain yourself," Munk hissed, still crouched defensively.

Macavity took another step closer.

"Really look at me, Munk."

The ginger cat did look different, Munkustrap realized. It was as if you could see through him, like a ghost. Looking at himself, the tabby realized that he too had taken on a translucent tone.

"What...what is this? What did you do to me?"

"I _didn't_ do anything to you," he said. "Not physically, at least. I wanted to talk with you, but breaking into the junkyard has become too much hassle of late. This is much easier."

"You _still_ haven't answered my question."

"Always looking for answers, aren't you?" he responded, still looking rather smug. "Very well then. I established a mental link between the two of us. Think of this as a dream, if you like. I just wish to talk."

Munk turned around, trying to grasp his surroundings. They were still in his den. It _looked_ like his den, at least. And then he saw himself, a much more solid version of himself, still asleep in his nest. Quaxo too was there, curled up by his side.

"I told you," Macavity said quietly. "This is a dream. The two of you are perfectly safe."

"Dreams can take place anywhere, why my den?"

" _So_ many questions."

"Do you blame me?"

Mac sighed.

"You do not make this easy on me, friend."

_Friend?_

"We _aren't_ friends," the Jellicle protector growled.

"But we were, once..."

Munkustrap shook his head.

"No, Mac. We never were. Whatever we had...it wasn't friendship."

"You _wound_ me, Munk."

_Sure I do._

Finally determining that he wasn't in any imminent danger, Munkustrap retracted his claws and stood up on two legs.

"What do you want?" he repeated.

"I _told_ you, to talk."

"That's what we are doing, isn't it?"

Macavity's eyes bore into his, all too briefly, before turning his gaze elsewhere.

"I wanted to see him," he finally said, flicking his tail towards Quaxo.

Deep down, Munk knew this was coming. He _knew_ Mac would be after Quaxo eventually. He just hoped it wouldn't be this soon.

"Tell me about him," the ginger cat continued, still staring intently at the tuxedo kitten.

"Why?"

"I would like to know."

The grey tabby shrugged in a futile attempt to ward him off Quaxo's scent.

"He's a stray. I took him in. There's nothing else to say."

"Oh? You seem awfully close."

"Why do you care? I didn't think kits were your style, Mac."

He chuckled softly.

"It depends on which kit."

He stepped past the Jellicle protector and made his way towards the little tux.

For a moment, he didn't say anything. He was just...watching him. There was something in Macavity's eyes that Munk couldn't quite grasp.

"Does he see you as his father?" he asked softly, not breaking his gaze.

_Oh._

That's what it was.

It was _longing._

"He _knows_ I'm not his father," he responded, not giving anything away.

Another second of silence.

Mac stretched his paw out, looking like he wanted to touch the kitten before realizing that he couldn't.

The hidden paw finally rose from his position and turned his gaze back to Munk.

"He should be dead."

"I don't know what you mean."

"You were never a good liar, my friend."

"I _don't_ know what you mean," Munk repeated, trying to keep his voice calm.

Macavity laughed, but this time it wasn't soft. It was harsh, spiteful.

"Do you know how magic originates in a cat?

"How am I supposed to know that?"

"Magic is like any other trait. It is passed from parent to child. And this little kitten you are harboring reeks of it."

He stepped in closer towards the grey tabby.

"I was wrong, I admit. I thought it would be the bigger one. But it seems the runt did, in fact, inherit my abilities. How...interesting."

So there it was. The confirmation. There was no trying to deny it now.

Munk just stood there, contemplating his next move.

"What is it, my dear friend? I would have wanted to relish the look of surprise on your face, but I can tell by your lack of reaction that you already knew who his sire was."

Munk shook his head, backing away slowly.

"How did you know about him?" he asked. "I mean...he was abandoned and didn't start showing his powers until later. How did you know he was here?"

"An oversight on my part, perhaps," Macavity responded, pacing around the room like a vulture stalking its prey. "As I said, I presumed he was dead."

He stopped, smoothing over a couple of strands of fur that were sticking out on his chest.

" _Mac_ ," the grey tabby snapped.

The ginger tom looked back up at him, eyes gleaming.

"Impatient, aren't we? No matter. I'll skip ahead to the interesting part since you are in such a rush."

_Interesting?_

Munkustrap tensed, failing to respond.

"My scouts reported a fire. They thought it might have been produced in _unnatural_ circumstances. So I sent several of my pollicles to investigate. The have better _noses_ than us cats."

_He knew about the fire? In the forest..._

"And do you know what they sniffed out? A kitten."

Munk's breath caught in his throat.

"A dead one, mind you," Mac continued. "Buried pretty deep in the soil. But that kit was _mine_. So then left the question...where was the other one? London is a big place, as you know. I didn't have enough henchcats to scour the entire city, so I needed to outsource some of the labor."

"Your _rats_ ," Munk realized, the pieces fitting together in his head.

Macavity's smug expression made a reappearance.

"They are quite dependable. Weak minded and easy to control. And there are _thousands_ of them at my disposal."

"Easier to control than cats?" Munk questioned angrily.

"Are you suggesting that the loyalty of my henchcats are not genuine?"

"You maim, you torture, you kill..."

"And you," he hissed, "are terribly naive. Not every cat is born into a tribe, or into a home where a human can attend to their every need. The world is rough and unforgiving. And some cats need to adapt to survive."

He could see Macavity's eyes take on a reddish tint.

"And many come to _me_ because I can offer them protection. The only thing I ask of them is their loyalty. And yes, some need more _persuasion_ than others, but it is a small price to pay."

_Is it?_

Just the idea that Macavity was malicious enough to deny living creatures of their own free will, deny them autonomy over their bodies….

It made him sick to his stomach.

But now was not the time to think of such depravities.

"I will ask again," Munk finally said. " _Why_ are you here?"

"You _know_ why."

"Enlighten me."

Mac's gaze shifted back towards Quaxo.

"I'm here for _him_."

_There it was._

Up until the point where Mac actually stated his intentions, there was a small spark of hope in the Jellicle protector's mind that he could perhaps get through this meeting without the possibility of losing a kitten.

One could only be so lucky.

He took a deep breath, preparing himself for what needed to be said. In fact, there was only one word that needed to be said.

" _No_."

Macavity clearly was not expecting that response. His eyes narrowed into slits.

" _He is my son_!" he snarled.

Quaxo jerked violently.

For a moment, Munk thought that Mac's outburst might have woken him up. The tuxedo kitten curled even tighter into a ball and pressed his little face in the Jellicle protector's soft belly fur as he slowly fell back asleep.

"So he _can_ sense me," Macavity murmured, lowering his voice once more. "He can sense I am close."

"He was dreaming about you since your _rats_ started sniffing around."

Mac nodded, looking almost… _proud?_

"They carry a little of my magic in them as well. It is how I am able to control them. My son is perhaps more powerful than he knows."

Munk tried to stop the shiver that was running up his spine. Coming out of Macavity's mouth, he did not like what that implied.

And even then, there was still one thing nagging at the back of his mind.

"If you wanted him so bad, why didn't you take him yourself? You clearly have the power to do it."

"Why waste it when I can just ask?"

"You don't _seriously_ think I would just give him to you?" Munk exclaimed.

"As I said," Mac responded, the tone of his voice not quite matching the fire in his eyes, "he is my son, my only _surviving_ child. Perhaps the only one I will ever have. And his wench of a mother stole him from me and left him for dead. He _belongs_ to me. I would expect someone who values family above all else to understand my position."

"Quaxo isn't a plaything to be passed around. He is a _kitten_ , Mac. He needs stability, compassion…"

"He needs his _father_!" the hidden paw hissed, unsheathing his claws. "He is not yours to take."

" _He_ is a Jellicle," Munkustrap stated firmly, not breaking his gaze. "And all Jellicles are under my protection. I will not let you corrupt him, Mac."

The ginger cat looked like he wanted to kill him right then and there. To sink his claws into the grey tabby's throat and leave him for the crows. It was lucky then, that this meeting was only of the mental variety.

"You dare..." he hissed, "call him a Jellicle? You have no claim..."

"I have every claim," Munk cut in, hackles raised. "He belongs with us. And he will stay with us."

A silence filled the air as the two cats stared each other down, unmoving.

"I see you have finally grown a backbone, my friend," Macavity remarked, now deceptively calm.

"I will not let you hurt my family."

"Hypocritical, aren't we? Seeing as you are holding _my_ son hostage..."

"He is safe. He is loved..."

"He is holding within him great power. Power that only I am capable of teaching him to control."

Munk couldn't help but laugh.

"You want him to learn from _you_? How to hurt other cats? To use his powers for destruction? You must think me mad, Mac, if you think I'm going to leave him in your paws."

"I will teach him to be strong," the ginger cat growled. "You were always so weak, Munk. Even now. Under your tutelage he wouldn't reach even half the extent of his abilities..."

"Like how to burn a cat alive under a fallen tree?" he countered.

"Still remember that, do we?"

"I'll never forget. Never."

Munk closed his eyes briefly as the painful memory flashed before him.

"Those are things that a kit need not to learn," he murmured, mostly to himself.

"Let me ask of you this, then," Macavity said, pacing the room again.

"What?"

"If you give me my son...my child...then I promise you, Munk, I will never lay a paw on any Jellicle again. You will not need to ever defend yourself against me, to worry about my next attack. My interest in your tribe will cease, and I will let it be known around Victoria Grove not to bother you."

No, he was not expecting that.

"You...you can't be serious?"

"I am," he responded simply.

Maybe Munk was imagining things, but he could see a hint of desperation in the ginger cat's eyes. He must really want access to Quaxo.

For the briefest of seconds, the Jellicle protector was stuck. He could only imagine how much easier life would be without the threat of Macavity. He could see the pained look in Demeter's eyes every time his name was brought up. How much he has tortured the Jellicle cats, _his cats_ over the years. He thought of Percy, who's blood still stained the chain link fence surrounding the junkyard. Wasn't it his job as protector to do what was best for the tribe?

But then he looked back at Quaxo….sweet Quaxo who was snuggled so comfortably in his side. He was perhaps the only innocent party in any of this, sleeping soundly while those above him bargained on his fate. Suddenly, he felt awful. Worse than awful. Quaxo was a Jellicle. _His_ little Jellicle, who trusted in him to protect him against cats like Macavity. He would not sacrifice one of his own. That was never a path he would be willing to go down. That...was not who he was.

"No," he finally responded. "You will _not_ have him."

Macavity eyes gleamed. "Think about it. One little kit for the ensured protection of the rest of your tribe. If you reject my offer, know this. Know that every future attack, every injury, every _death_ will be because of you, Munk."

"No."

"How can you be..."

"So selfish?" Munkustrap cut in. "I've done quite a bit of growing up since you left, Mac. And you know what I've realized? It isn't my fault. Every injury, every death. It's _yours._ It always has been. I can't control your actions, but I certainly can control mine."

He came in close towards the ginger tom.

"And know this. I do _not_ fear you. We do not fear you. Whatever you decide to do, we will be ready."

Macavity shook his head, backing away.

"You have made a permanent enemy tonight, Munkustrap," he seethed. "I will see to it that you will never experience a day of peace for the rest of your miserable life. If I were you, I would always look behind you, wherever you go. You will never be safe. Your _family_ will never be safe. This is not the last time we'll meet, be sure of that. This meeting is over."

Munkustrap suddenly felt a great flash of pain in his head as a bright light swamped his vision. He gasped, his body felt like it was floating, then flying, before landing with a thud. And then the darkness set in. He realized now that he was lying down, and it was dark because his eyes were closed.

He opened them slowly, feeling slightly dizzy. It was still very dark outside, and he realized that no time must have passed in his confrontation with Macavity. Quaxo was glommed onto his side like a little furry parasite, and Munk bent down to give him a small lick on the top of his head.

He hated himself for even entertaining the idea of giving him away. But _still_ …was he wrong to keep him from his father, even if his father was a monster?

He thought back to his dream. Of those bright pair of eyes that looked so much like Macavity's.

No.

Quaxo was _not_ Macavity.

Quaxo was so ready to love while Mac was incapable of it.

And there was no way he was going to let Macavity sink his claws into the impressionable young kitten, regardless of the fact that he sired him. Quaxo deserved better than that.

He recognized that this would not be the end of the discussion. Mac would come back again, for the hidden paw was unused to being denied. The fact that he didn't immediately raid the junkyard and nab the kit by force would suggest that perhaps he was not as powerful as he would like Munk to think he was. At least not at the moment.

He sighed, laying his head back down. There was so much he had to do, but Jenny's poppy seeds were making quick work of his ability to stay conscious.

He would have to deal with everything in the morning.

_Hopefully._

Munkustrap once again closed his eyes, hoping to dream of the stars.


	14. Demeter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tugger is a good brother, Demeter is a good queenfriend, and Munk is a good headrest.

Demeter was an early riser by nature. It wasn't that she disliked the evening hours or anything, it's just...

Oh, who was she kidding?

She hated nighttime.

It was cold and dark and not terribly fun. And it brought back memories that she had no desire to relive.

What was it the humans said?

 _"The early bird gets the worm."_  
  
And not to mention she liked to watch the sunrise, even if she _was_ by herself.

The Jellicles were all night owls (or at least the younger ones), and most slept until mid-morning. She was certainly okay with that as it gave her several hours of peace and quiet.

She didn't sleep particularly well last night, and woke up feeling more tired than she did before going to bed. Her den was empty, Bomba must have spent her night elsewhere. Demeter had an inkling of where her sister might be, but never thought to push the matter. They were both adults, and it wasn't really her right to impose any unwanted opinions upon her twin.

She yawned, stretched out her cramped muscles, ate a leftover mouse for breakfast, and eventually made her way over to the hood of the TSE car. It was old and rather decrepit, but it gave her a perfect view of the rising sun. She waved to George as she passed, the poor tom was stuck with the overnight watch shift and should hopefully be able to get some sleep soon when his replacement came to relieve him.

Making herself comfortable (or at least as comfortable as one could get when sitting on rusty metal), the gold and white queen watched the blackness of the sky shift to a warm pink and yellow as the sun peaked through the hillside. It was terribly relaxing, and she felt herself nodding off.

"So you do this every morning?"

Demeter blinked herself awake, turning around to find the Rum Tum Tugger standing behind her.

"A bit early for you, isn't it?"

"Hey, I don't _always_ wake up at noon," he protested, looking very (not) offended.

"No, but I imagine you were probably up pretty late last night."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

She shifted closer, taking a whiff of his pelt.

"You smell like my sister."

She could see Tugger freeze.

"What? I was _thorough_."

Demeter chuckled.

"You're right. You smell fine. But thank you for confirming where Bomba was last night."

Tugger crossed his arms, shooting her a death glare.

"That wasn't funny."

"Really? I was rather amused by it."

"We're just friends."

"Of course."

" _Just_ friends."

"Sure."

It remained silent for a moment before the Maine Coon made a move to sit down.

"Why are you really out here this early, Tugger?"

"You mean you don't yearn for my company on this lovely summer morning?"

She raised her eyebrows.

"Worth a shot. I'm actually here on behalf of the walking stress ball known as my brother."

Demeter's smile disappeared.

"Is he okay?"

"You tell me. I haven't seen you two together in a while."

She sighed, averting her gaze.

"Are you guys going south?" Tugger continued. "Because if you are, I'd like to know in advance and prepare myself for his inevitable mental breakdown."

"We're _not_ breaking up. It's just been a difficult week for me."

"Macavity?"

"It's _none_ of your concern," she responded sharply.

"Maybe not directly," Tugger said, trying to comb through the knots in his mane. "But I've found there to be a negative correlation between Munk's stress levels and the amount of uninterrupted sleep I get per night."

" _That's_ what you're worried about?"

"Well _that_ and the general wellbeing of my brother. It hasn't been easy on him this week, especially with Alonzo and Admetus gone to engorge themselves on Bustopher's curry."

"Has he told you that?"

The Maine Coon snorted.

"That idiot will drop dead before he admits something is wrong with him."

 _He's not incorrect about that…_..

"I didn't mean to upset him," she responded tiredly. "Sometimes when I'm stressed it's just easier to not have to talk with anybody."

"Wow, you guys really _are_ perfect for one another."

She rolled her eyes.

"I'm going to feign ignorance and pretend that was a compliment."

"That wasn't _not_ a compliment. And communication with each other is always a good thing."

Tugger winced as he proceeded to yank a particularly nasty looking knot out of his mane.

_Bomba certainly wasn't easy on him last night._

"Six months out of the nursery and you're already giving relationship advice?" she questioned amusedly.

" _No._ It's more...life advice. I think."

He paused, studying the expression on her face.

"You're judging me."

"Sometimes I can't tell if you're a kit or an elder, the way you act. And don't feel bad. I judge everyone. You aren't special."

"Really? Then my father lied to me."

She tried hiding her smile.

"You're making it very hard for me to hate you."

"Demeter!" he gasped, placing his paw on his chest. "That might be the _nicest_ thing you've ever said to me. I think I'm tearing up a little."

Okay, _now_ she was laughing.

"It's the best you'll get out of me. Now are you really going to ditch my sister in your own den?"

"You're changing the topic," he mused. "And Bomba knows how to get home."

He stood up, brushing the dirt from his legs.

"I gotta get cleaned up, anyways."

"Hot date?"

"How'd you know?"

"Wait, I was _joking_. You really have a date?"

Tugger shrugged.

"You know that ginger queen who lives near the docks?"

"Olga? But she smells like fi-"

"Oh, not _her,"_ Tugger cut in quickly, looking rather revolted. "It's actually with her brother."

"Does _he_ smell like fish?"

"Nope. More like croissants. And baguettes. His owner works at the bakery."

"So is this date for him or for the baked goods?"

"Why not _both_?"

He paused.

" _Well…._ mostly for the bread, but I'll take what I can get."

Demeter stifled another laugh. Leave it to Tugger to put her in a better mood. She stood up, noting the now completely blue sky. It aught to be a nice day out today, though knowing herself, she probably wouldn't take advantage of it. She had things…. _cats….._ to attend to.

"I guess I'd better get going," she murmured.

"Hey...just…" Tugger trailed off, looking a bit lost on what to say.

She put a paw on his shoulder.

"I'll visit Munk," she whispered.

He gave her a soft smile.

"Take care of him, alright? He looks out for everyone here, but once in a while it's nice to know that someone's looking out for him."

She nodded, watching him saunter off back towards his den.

The Rum Tum Tugger was a strange specimen indeed.

#

It had been almost a week since she'd went inside Munk's den.

She found the Jellicle protector sprawled out on his side with his eyes closed. Quaxo was there as well, using the grey tabby's stomach as a head rest while flipping through pages of a book that probably weighed more than he did.

"Comfortable?" she teased, stepping through the entrance.

Quaxo looked up.

"Hi, Demeter!" he squeaked. "I'm reading about infectious diseases."

"Oh _really_?"

"Yep. Did you know that parasites..."

"Quaxo!" she interrupted. "I'd like to keep my breakfast in my stomach, if you don't mind."

The little tux lowered his gaze.

"Sorry. Did I come on too strong? Jelly says I have trouble understanding social cues."

"It's fine, honey. Just...maybe talk about things that are a little less...gross?"

"Hmmm. You're probably right. Maybe I'll read that book about m-a-c-r-o-e-c-o-n-o-m-i-c-s instead."

_Was that English?_

She turned her gaze back to Munk, who had yet to make any sort of movement. He was never usually a late sleeper, and they weren't exactly being quiet.

"Is he okay?" she asked, trying to hide the concern in her voice.

"Oh, Munkus? He's on drugs."

… _what?_

Demeter could feel her chest tightening.

_Drugs? He's doing drugs? I know he was stressed but..._

"You don't look too good Demeter," Quaxo remarked.

"I...him...drugs?"

"It's alright. I took drugs too. I _told_ mother that the poppy seeds would give me i-n-d-i-g-e-s-t-i-o-n, but then she called me a d-i-v-a..."

She felt as though a great weight had been lifted off of her chest.

_Oh, thank Heavyside._

"Quaxo," she clarified, "poppy seeds aren't dangerous. At least not in small amounts. The seeds come from a flowering plant and are used pretty extensively by humans."

"How do _you_ know?"

"I used to help out a lot in Jenny's den. I'm pretty familiar with all of her medicinal supplies."

She bent down, squeezing one of Munk's paws that was dangling limply off the side of his nest.

"So he's okay, then?" Quaxo asked.

Demeter nodded.

"The poppy seeds are making him very sleepy right now. Did you say that Jenny gave them to you?"

"Yeah. I've been having bad dreams lately."

He turned around to look at Munk.

"I think he was having bad dreams too," the tuxedo kitten continued softly. "He moves around a lot when he sleeps."

_Oh, Munku…_

She could feel the Jellicle protector trembling under her touch. Munk had always been such a restless sleeper, ever since they were kits. Demeter was half tempted to wake him, but even a troubled sleep was better than no sleep at all.

"Poppy seeds can act as a sedative," she explained, "but they unfortunately can't stop you from dreaming."

Still holding Munk's paw in hers, she drew her gaze back to the young kitten.

"Honey, I think it's time for you to go back to the nursery."

"But Demeter..." he whined.

"I'll stay with Munk, okay? And maybe we'll visit later. But if you stay in here for much longer than you'll miss breakfast."

Quaxo sighed.

"Fine," he mumbled.

He closed the book he was reading and waved his paws in a circular motion as the book slowly disappeared.

Demeter's eyes widened.

"You're getting awfully good at that."

"That was _easy_. I just moved it to the nursery which isn't far. It's living things I'm having more trouble with."

"It just takes practice."

Quaxo nodded, not looking completely convinced.

"I hope you feel better, Munkus," he said softly, nuzzling his side. The grey tabby didn't even flinch, completely dead to the world.

He gave Demeter a small hug as well before leaving for the nursery.

The gold and white queen then laid down beside the Jellicle protector, gently lapping at his ears. She found it to be a rather calming action, and it was frequently used for newborn kittens who had trouble sleeping through the night. It took a while, but she finally felt Munk go lax under her dutiful ministrations.

"Dem," he mumbled groggily.

"I'm here."

"Quaxo?"

"He's in the nursery."

"Jenny drugged me."

She laughed.

"How terribly rude of her. Now go back to sleep."

"But the yard..."

"Is safe. We have cats on watch. It's okay to take the morning off."

He didn't have the strength to respond to her, his eyes slipping closed once more.

Demeter gently guided her tongue from his ears down to his chest and back, cleaning the dirt and grime from his body that his exhaustion prevented him from doing himself. She felt his breathing deepen, much stronger and even than it was earlier.

She stopped only when she was sure he was asleep again, and curled herself around him as she felt her own eyelids grow heavy.

Right now, a nap didn't seem like a bad idea.

Surrounded by a warm mass of grey and black, a belly full of mouse and a beautiful blue sky above her... _.that_ was how Demeter spent her morning.


	15. Demeter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where Munk finally gets a break (because Demeter forced him)

Demeter was the one who woke first, still firmly pressed against Munkustrap's soft outer coat.

It took her a second to get her bearings, mainly for why she wasn't in her den in the first place. It must be around noon now, far too late to be sleeping in, but she found she didn't mind at all.

In fact, she'd probably be content in laying there all day, but she could already feel Munk slowly coming back around to the world of the living.

He blinked open his eyes and immediately recognized that he was not alone. Glancing at her for the briefest of seconds, he then looked to see the sun shining brightly in the sky before turning back around.

"When did you get here?" he finally mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

She chuckled.

"You don't remember?"

"I...uh...no. Not really."

Demeter leaned in closer, smoothing a couple of strands of fur that were sticking up from his head.

"I came this morning," she answered in between licks. "Tugger requested I check in on you."

"Tugger?"

She nodded.

"He cares for you, you know. He may not show it, but he does. So I came in here, and you were a bit loopy from Jenny's poppy seeds, but-"

"Wait!" Munk interrupted frantically, suddenly looking much more awake. "Quaxo! Where's..."

"He's _fine_ ," Demeter cut in. "I sent him to the nursery..."

"But did you follow him there? Did you make sure he..."

"Munk!" she cried. "Honestly, he's not a newborn and is perfectly capable of finding his way back."

Munk shook his head, pacing the room.

"You should have woken me up," he muttered, mostly to himself. "I mean, it's what? Noon now...I shouldn't have slept that long..."

"What are you-"

"We're in trouble, Dem," he interrupted, looking back at her. "The tribe is in danger and it's _my_ fault. We need to-"

"Alright, hold on!" she responded firmly. "You want to tell me what is going on? Why was Quaxo in your den anyways?"

"It's com-"

"I swear to the everlasting cat if you tell me it's _complicated_ I will kick your ass to the nearest junkyard!" she hissed. "I'm sick of being left out of everything. Your problems are my problems, do you understand?"

She could see his eyes widen, probably unaccustomed to hearing her raise her voice in such a way.

But...she was mad. Macavity was lurking, Munk was driving himself to exhaustion, _something_ was up with Quaxo, and...

_Oh._

Demeter wasn't an idiot. She had known about Quaxo for a while. Well...she had _presumed_ about Quaxo for a while. About his magic, about his parentage. But it was something that she had tried to push to the back of her mind, or it would threaten to overwhelm her.

But now...

She had a pretty good idea of why Macavity had found a sudden interest in the Jellicle tribe once again.

"Munk," she said, softening her tone. "Is there anything you would like to tell me? About Quaxo?"

It was a loaded question, she knew. But Munk was no idiot either. She could see it in his eyes.

He knew.

He knew that _she_ knew.

"How long?"

It was the only thing he managed to spit out, looking decidedly uncomfortable at saying even that.

She sighed, sitting back down.

"About the magic or about his father?"

Silence permeated the room.

"You knew about _that_ too?" he finally whispered.

"His eyes, Munk. Those eyes are _his_ eyes."

He stood frozen for a second, his response not immediate. Demeter didn't dare speak, waiting for the protector to say something. To say...anything.

And what he did manage to say broke her heart.

"Would you condemn the life of one cat if it saved the lives of many?"

The question just hung there in the air, almost as though it was laughing at them.

Demeter couldn't think of an answer. Not really. At first, it looked quite obvious.

Yes.

Sacrificing one life for the survival of many others would be the logical thing to do.

But again, Demeter wasn't an idiot.

Macavity wanted Quaxo, that much was clear. For what purpose? That was more muddled.

She knew Mac wanted kittens. She knew how difficult it would be for him to have kittens. And she took comfort in that. In the knowledge that maybe his bloodline would stop with him.

But it hadn't.

And now they were here.

Would he treat Quaxo with kindness? With respect? Did he have any paternal feelings at all?

These were questions she couldn't answer.

And looking at Munk now, even after sleeping all morning he still looked so... _tired_.

He was far too young to look so worn down.

Perhaps that was the nature of his job. He must protect those that couldn't protect themselves.

She came in near to him and gently squeezed his paw.

"In the end," she said softly, "would you have ever forgiven yourself if you had handed Quaxo over to him?"

This time, his response was immediate.

"No," he whispered. "Never."

"Alright then. So whatever's done is done. The question is, where do we go from here?"

"He's going to come back, Dem."

"So we'll stop him."

"How?"

She crossed her arms.

"For one, not standing here looking sad. You can call a meeting with the seniors and we'll figure out how to bolster our defenses."

He raised his eyebrows, and what could almost be considered a smile formed on his face.

"You sure you don't want to be in charge?" he asked weakly.

She gave him a gentle nudge.

"We'll be okay," she murmured. "And...I'm sorry. I'm sorry for avoiding you this week. With Mac showing back up, and Quaxo's situation...it's just been a lot. And I hate how even the scent of him affects me so deeply."

"It's understandable, Dem. And I'm sorry too, I mean...from not keeping you updated on everything. I just wish we didn't need to be so secretive about Quaxo's condition."

"They'll find out eventually."

"I know," Munk responded sadly. "He's getting bigger every day. Soon I won't be able to protect him any more."

"He'll always have us," Demeter insisted. "And Tugger. And Jenny. He won't be alone."

"That's assuming Mac doesn't snatch him first."

"We _won't_ let that happen."

"He has magic, Dem."

"Tell me this, then," she started. "Mac wants Quaxo, correct?"

"Yes..."

"Did he tell you this in person?"

"Um...well no, actually. He...I'm not exactly sure. We met in a dream or something. He wasn't actually here."

She gave him a reassuring smile.

"So he doesn't have the resources yet to attack. That gives us time."

"But he has _magic_ , Dem," he repeated, louder than the last.

"Munk!" she exclaimed, grasping his shoulders. "Magic is fickle...it's temperamental. It doesn't always do what you want it to do. There are many variables that can prevent it from working. Mac is smart. He won't attack the junkyard until he knows that he will succeed. We just have to beat him to the punch."

He stared at her in silence for a second, looking rather lost on what to say.

"Munk?" she prodded gently.

"I think I'm in love with you," he said, almost absentmindedly.

_We're doing this now?_

Oddly enough, she found that she didn't mind. She knew his feelings for her were strong - _and hers were for him_ \- it was just a matter of time before they were said out loud. Maybe he was still loopy from the poppy seeds. Still, Demeter felt herself growing rather warm. But a good kind of warmth, one that spread from her chest all the way to the tips of her paws.

She helped him off the floor, the Jellicle protector still looking rather dazed.

"How about," she said, brushing the dirt from his chest fur, "we save the love confessions until after we sort out the Macavity problem?"

"Oh."

She smiled again, perhaps the widest one she had given in a while.

"Come on," she beckoned, stepping through the exit of Munk's den.

It was going to be an interesting day.

#

The meeting itself wasn't long. They gathered everyone they could - Jenny, Skimble, poor George who had to be woken up once again. And surprisingly enough, Tugger.

There wasn't a terribly large amount that Munk was able to say, mainly that Macavity was planning an attack, but they didn't know when and they didn't know how. Questions were asked - _why now?_ , _what is he after?,_ _how do we plan on stopping him?_ \- questions that neither Demeter nor Munk were able to give an answer to. They knew the _why_ , of course, but they weren't prepared to tell the tribe of Quaxo's abilities just yet.

Tentative plans were made at least, making the impromptu meeting not a complete waste of time. They would be sending the chaos twins out to spy on Macavity's headquarters, giving them a good idea of how many henchcats they may have to prepare for in case of future encounters. Future _physical_ encounters. Skimbleshanks would be accompanying them, of course, for he was the only cat that Jerrie and Teazer would listen to. The railway cat's excellent nose would not go to waste during that endeavor.

Then there was the issue of fortifying the junkyard. Sealing off every hole, every crack, every possible entry point, strengthening any weaknesses in the fence - it wasn't going to be an easy task, and the junkyard was strained enough as it. Tugger of all cats actually came up with the rather ingenious solution of letting the kittens join in on the fun of picking through the scraps of metal and other objects that would be used to help reinforce their defenses.

Demeter couldn't say that she was completely sated, but at least progress was being made on some front.

It was late afternoon by the time the meeting finished, many cats were with their humans, others were milling about without a clue of the latest proceedings. She noticed Munk looking quite high strung, and her heart went out for him. She couldn't recall the last time he had ever sat down and just...well, did nothing. Rested. Relaxed. He was always so terribly tense, and his pain was hurting her.

"Munk?" she asked softly.

"Yeah?"

"Come out with me."

It wasn't a question, really. More of a command. And she hoped he wouldn't pick up on the desperation in her voice.

"Dem," he sighed, needing the ground. "You know I can't..."

"It's just for tonight," she insisted, standing firm. "It's Sunday, you know. The day my humans go shopping."

He raised an eyebrow.

"They always bring back a can of tuna," she continued hopefully.

"Dem..."

"We can share," she interrupted.

" _I told you_..."

"Are you really going to let that tuna go to waste?"

"... _that I'm busy_..."

"...when there are starving cats on the street..."

"... _and the junkyard is in danger_..."

"...who _wish_ they could get a meal like that..."

Munk groaned, throwing his arms up.

"Alright, alright. You win."

Dem smiled, prodding his shoulder.

"You act as though going out with me is an act of torture."

"I...oh, Dem, you know that's not true…"

"I was _joking._ "

Munk paused for a second, looking as though he was losing an internal battle.

"I guess at night out wouldn't be such a bad thing..." he eventually mumbled.

"We have cats on watch," she reminded him.

"I know but..." he trailed off, looking towards the ground.

Taking his paw in hers once again, she guided towards the exit of the junkyard.

"They'll be _fine_ ," she repeated.

Munk gave her a weak smile, but nothing else was said on that matter.

#

Demeter had to admit, it had been a while since she'd went inside her human's house.

Well, _a while_ being relative. A few days would be the more accurate term. Her human boy was off at summer camp, which she had to explain to Munk in great detail.

"You mean...they can just send their kits away for months at a time?" he had asked rather confusedly.

She knew he was still sad over his own human kit, who would shortly be moving out from his home. He hardly seemed to visit anymore.

Her house wasn't a terribly long walk, and they arrived there pretty quickly. The process of getting the tuna, however, was anything but quick. Her humans weren't downstairs, and she spent a fair amount of time meowing her head off next to their bedside before the human female finally got annoyed enough to get up. She prepared the tuna in her bowl before giving her a quick pet to the head and disappearing back up the staircase.

Demeter didn't mind so much. She was never particularly close with the adult humans. It was her boy that she missed.

Dragging the bowl through the cat flap at the bottom of the door, she met Munk on porch. He bent down to sniff at the tuna, looking a bit hesitant to put any of it in his mouth.

"Your humans never fed you this?" she asked.

"Uh...no. They have me these weird brown...flakes. The fish I eat is the fish I catch."

She rolled her eyes.

"At least try it. I promise you'll like it."

He still didn't move.

"Please?"

Grimace still present on his face, he bent down again and took the smallest of bites.

"Well?"

"It's...yeah, I suppose it's fine."

She could help but laugh.

He ended up eating plenty for someone who only thought it was only _fine_. But Munk was clearly hungry, so perhaps his belly was overriding any thoughts of disgust.

Demeter dragged the now empty bowl back into the house, and after leaving it in the middle of the kitchen floor - _serves my human right for ignoring me_ \- she went back outside and took her tomfriend around to the backyard.

"You mean we aren't going back now?" he asked desperately.

"Nope."

Her human's backyard was marvelous. Spacious and green, a cat's perfect playground. There was a large basket of toys that she used to play with quite a bit, but had far outgrown. Still, it was rather amusing to her when her boy would wave a colorful string in her face and expect her to paw at it. She did, of course, because it made him happy. If only he knew that she was capable of so much more.

"What's that?" Munk asked, pointing to the tree near the far end of the backyard.

"A tree?"

He shot her a glare.

"Not _that_. What's in the tree?"

"Oh. That's a treehouse."

"Huh?"

"It's exactly how it sounds. A house in a tree. The adult humans made it for my human boy. It's where he keeps his toys and books and such."

"Wow," he whispered. "Can you imagine living that high up?"

"Oh Munk," she chuckled, cuffing his shoulder. "He doesn't _live_ up there. It's just a place to hang out. I can show you if you want."

He turned to her.

"Really? But what if the humans..."

"They never go inside his treehouse. And my human boy is gone, remember? We'll be fine."

He hesitated, risk-taking not really in his nature, but eventually acquiesced and the two of them nimbly made their way up the rope ladder.

It was...messy in there. Her boy was not nearly as neat as his parents, with toys and electronics spread across an old carpet on the floor, one that was much more comfortable than it was aesthetically pleasing. There was a shelf that contained several books, many of them aimed for children much younger than her boy was now. On the wall was a poster with what looked like a big green human with black hair throwing a punch at some other strange creature. A couple of stuffed animals, a bean bag chair, and some crumbled up t-shirts made up the rest of the treehouse. It wasn't terribly spacious, but it was comfy.

Munk looked out the window, which was positioned in such a way that the rays from the setting sun were able to stream through and light up the room.

"This is amazing, Dem," he whispered. "My house doesn't even _have_ a backyard."

"Oh, you poor soul," she teased. "Some cats don't even have a human."

He sighed, turning back around without giving any indication that he had even heard her last statement.

"I wanted to ask..." he trailed off, looking a little...was it _embarrassment_?

"What?" she prodded.

"Um...about this morning, or...I guess was it this afternoon? It doesn't matter. About what I said..."

Oh. So _now_ was when they were going to talk about it.

"I meant it," he continued, "I meant what I said about..."

"Loving me."

He looked down.

"Yeah, that. And I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable or..."

"Munk," she interrupted, coming in closer to him. "I love you, too."

 _That_ got his attention back.

"You do?"

She smiled, nuzzling his side.

"I always have, you dolt. I've just been waiting for you to catch up."

"Wait, by _always_ , do you mean..."

"Since we were kits? Yeah. But you were always so...restless. So distracted by everything. I didn't think you cared."

"I _always_ cared, Dem. Seeing you with him..."

"I don't want to talk about _him_ , okay?" she cut in gently.

He nodded, going silent for a second as the two of them watched the sun sink further in the sky.

"So where do we go from here?" he asked lightly.

She pondered an answer to that. Demeter wasn't a wordsmith, maybe she'll reserve that to Quaxo, but what she was feeling right now was more... a longing, perhaps. A deep seated desire.

So that was what she acted upon.

By kissing him.

It was a chaste thing at first, it always was with them. Munk was always so very gentle with her, so very understanding. And she appreciated it tremendously. She knew he was an adult tom and had desires just like everyone else, but never thought to push it in any way. Even now, she could feel his hesitance. His fear.

She broke apart, her eyes locked on his.

"Munk, I'm _not_ made of glass."

And there it was. The invitation. She could see something pass through his eyes, something she was just beginning to comprehend.

"Are you sure?" he asked softly, grasping her paw in his.

Her simple nod was all it took, and for the first time in their relationship, _he_ was the one to kiss her. It...it had been so long, so terribly long since she'd been touched in this way...so intimately...so personally. She was not his first, she knew - nor was he hers - but it would be _their_ first, together. She knew some may think it silly to wait this long, but their relationship developed from something deeper than just the physical.

There were so many things to worry about. Macavity, the safety of the clan, the incoming autumn months that would bring along the cold and illness...Munk was right. There really wasn't the time to take trips such as these. They had things to do, plans to make, goals to achieve. Lives were counting on them. But maybe….

Maybe she deserved this.

No.

Maybe _they_ deserved this.

Now, she thought, deepening the kiss and letting the protector gently ease her onto the carpet, they had all the time in the world.


	16. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selene beats Grizabella for the "parent of the year" award.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer:
> 
> This chapter contains implied non-con between two characters. Nothing is explicitly described or shown (this is a rated T fic, after all), but if the implication alone is enough to make certain readers uncomfortable, I would recommend bypassing this chapter.

_Selene didn't realize how keen Macavity was on having kits of his own. She had told him the news almost immediately after finding out herself. It would be futile to try and hide it, especially from a magical cat._

_In retrospect, his reaction shouldn't have been surprising. They had talked frequently about the importance of bloodlines and establishing your territorial claim through familial connection._

_Selene didn't find herself nearly as enthused about the situation as her mate. While she acknowledged that the pregnancy had brought them closer together, this did not stop Macavity's wandering eye, nor his brutality._

_She knew he hoped that the kits would inherit his magical abilities, for what reason she wasn't sure. It couldn't be for benevolent purposes. The milky white queen unconsciously found herself touching the swell of her belly feeling for any movement. She wasn't too far along yet, early enough in the process to where she could still pass as not pregnant._

_Macavity, in the interest of his future offspring, now wanted to be updated on her daily whereabouts. She found herself constantly under the watchful eye of her mate's henchcats, most of whom she found a heavy dislike for._

_She had asked him what would happen if her kits did not develop their father's powers, to which he was elusive with his reply. From what she gathered, they would simply be adopted as other members of his gang. Perhaps this was the best outcome. She dared asking him the opposite - what their fate would be if they did indeed have his abilities._

_He told her that these were things that she didn't need to bother herself with._

_Selene felt strangely isolated, not because she was unused to it, but because it actually bothered her. She had spent many years with just her thoughts as company, but she still had her freedom, something sorely lacking in her current situation. Her stomach continued to grow, as did her dissatisfaction._

_Macavity paid more attention to her than he ever had, but this did not translate physically or emotionally. He satisfied his needs with an ever growing list of lovers, while Selene sulked over the restrictions enforced by his henchcats. She was not to leave the house they inhabited without permission or an escort._

_She was…imprisoned. But perhaps she was not alone in her suffering._

_It was a day like any other when a new queen found a home in Macavity's hideout. That in itself wasn't unusual, especially of late, but what Selene did find interest in was the fact that she didn't leave. No, she very well couldn't leave because she was guarded. She was a pretty young thing, covered in black, white, and gold markings. It was quite obvious why Macavity would find an interest in her. But that was all it was with his consorts._

_An interest._

_A distraction._

_So why was he not letting her leave?_

_She couldn't be a prisoner. She was treated rather well, with plentiful amounts of food and enough blankets to keep her warm._

_Was he looking for a new mate?_

_That….seemed more likely._

_It took a week before Selene visited this strange queen. Her door was guarded and there were no windows, but she was not chained down. There was no need as escape was impossible. Food lay uneaten in the corner, currently being ravished by ants and flies._

_It was her eyes that Selene first took note of. It was the look of defeat. Of submission. Of a resounding lack of willpower. She had seen many queens on the street with the same look, those who had fallen prey to males with less than admirable intentions. Males who looked at them as prey to be caught. To be conquered._

_So that was why she was here._

_It made her shudder. Selene knew Macavity wasn't a good cat. Not even close. She had seen him maim, she had seen him murder. He had performed horrendous acts to cement his position as leader and maintain his ever expanding group of followers. But this was different. No queen deserved to have their body taken from their control and used to satisfy his desires._

_She wondered perhaps if this queen was the first that Macavity used in this way. Selene couldn't think of anyone else, which gave her if only a small amount of comfort._

_The room was eerily silent as the white queen dropped a mouse at the hostage's paws. A peace offering of sorts. She had so much she wanted to ask her._

_Who are you?_

_How does Macavity know you?_

_Does he….love you?_

_But she found she couldn't say a word. The gold queen looked up at her from the floor, pawing at the mouse but not eating it. Her eyes landed on her stomach and remained there for some time before dropping back to the floor._

_On that trip, no words were said at all._

_But Selene was not sated._

_She came again, and again. And a third time. Nothing._

_She heard her mate's henchcats snickering in the basement, for the hostage was a Jellicle, and Jellicle cats deserved whatever punishment Macavity inflicted upon them._

_Ah. Was she an old flame of his? Back in the days when he was still a member of the tribe?_

_Had she rejected him before? He never did well with that. With not getting what he wanted._

_It was her fifth day and another mouse was dropped at the Jellicle queen's paws. It was no different than any of her other trips, except for one thing. The sound of a voice._

_"Are they his?"_

_Her voice sounded creaky. Broken. As if she hadn't used it in a while, or…. perhaps she had used it too much. Selene wanted to ask her what she meant but she could see her eyes lay once again on her growing belly._

_Oh. She saw no benefit in hiding that bit of information._

_"Yes."_

_The Jellicle Queen once again averted her gaze, and Selene wondered how she could find so much interest in the ground._

_"You have magic, then?" she asked softly._

_What?_

_"I'm not a magician."_

_That caught her attention. She looked back up, frowning._

_"You must be," she said, eyeing her belly._

_"Why must I be?"_

_The Jellicle queen narrowed her eyes._

_"He hasn't told you?"_

_Selene felt herself growing frustrated._

_"Told me what?"_

_"Why he hasn't had any other kittens?"_

_Selene's silence stood as a clear indication to keep explaining._

_"It is dangerous for normal cats to carry the offspring of magicians. Their bodies can't handle the differences in physiology. Most pregnancies end in miscarriage."_

_"But…"_

_"Those that don't," she continued, "end in death. Of the mother, and most times of the kittens."_

_Selene wanted to say that this Jellicle queen was out of her mind. But….she couldn't. Macavity clearly wanted kittens, so why was she the first to be able to give him any?_

_Did she have magic?_

_Selene wasn't a young cat, surely she would have noticed something abnormal about herself by now. Or…or maybe she just wasn't trying hard enough._

_Was that why Macavity kept her around? Did he ever love her? Or was she just an incubator for him?_

_"I'm not a magician," she repeated, though less confident than the time before._

_And that was the end of that._

_She came back the next day, curiosity getting the better of her._

_"Does it worry you?" she asked._

_"What?"_

_"About the possibility that he may get you pregnant?"_

_"No," she said, eyes fixated at some point on the wall._

_It was the only word she gave her, and Selene didn't dare push it farther._

_Another day passed. And yet another._

_"What does he want with kittens?"_

_The gold queen didn't even try to make eye contact with her this time._

_"I said…"_

_"I heard you," she muttered, drawing circle on the sandy floor with her paw._

_"Well, what does he…"_

_"I don't know," she cut in icily. "To teach them to kill? To torture? To abuse queens?"_

_She sniffled, and it was then that she could see the tears forming in the hostage's eyes._

_Selene found herself rubbing her stomach again. The kits were plenty large now, she could feel two of them in there. She came to the realization that if her kits were born with magic, if they ended up in their father's clutches, it was more than possible they would turn out just like him. She didn't want to be responsible for more misery in the world._

_Selene wasn't sure how long she had been with Macavity for. The beginning of their relationship felt like an entirely different chapter in her life. She spent a while believing that he had slowly changed for the worse over the months, but had now come to terms with the fact that he was always this way. He was always cruel, and she doubted he had any genuine concern for her. In fact, she didn't think he was capable of love at all._

_And it angered her. The hold that the ginger tom held over her, a hold so strong that she was willing to gloss over his sadistic tendencies, his many affairs, his vile treatment of her. He didn't deserve to have kits, especially magical ones. It turned her stomach to know that she was the one who had gave him what he most wanted in the world. That he was going to find joy in taking pieces of her and manipulating them to serve his nefarious purposes._

_She left the Jellicle queen's den, enraged with…. well, with everything. Her life wasn't supposed to be this way. She was beautiful once, she could dance like no other queen, and had toms lining up at her paws._

_What was she now?_

_She shook her head, a new sense of purpose building within her. It was late now, she realized. And there was only one guard between her and the Jellicle queen's quarters. It didn't take long for her to nick some medication for Macavity's supply, nor did it take her long to drug his henchcat's drinking water. The effect wasn't immediate, and Selene waited with bated breath as his eyes slowly closed and he sunk to the floor._

_She padded up cautiously, sniffing around to see if he was still breathing. It was human medication that she stole – well, that Mac stole to use for…reasons – and she wasn't quite sure of the effect it would have on cats. The henchcat - who's name she couldn't quite remember - was, in fact, still alive, though deeply unconscious._

_Good. She was in the clear._

_She opened the door quickly and grabbed for the golden queen's paw._

_"What…"_

_"Be quiet," she hissed softly, almost dragging her across the hallway._

_She whipped her head around the corner, making sure that nobody else was awake and watching them._

_"Come on."_

_She wouldn't leave through the front door. That was guarded. But the ventilation shaft? That was fair game._

_The two queens made their way through with surprisingly little effort, and eventually ended up in the outside, where the cold winter air welcomed them._

_The Jelllicle queen turned to look at her._

_"Why are you helping me?" she asked. There was no venom in her voice. Exhaustion, perhaps, but very little anger._

_Selene shrugged, bunching the snow together with her paw._

_"It was the right thing to do." She refrained from adding on the fact that it would surely piss Macavity off, losing his dear prize._

_She expected the gold queen to run off now, find her home again, but she still stood there, eyeing her._

_"What?"_

_"Come with me."_

_Selene definitely wasn't expecting that offer._

_"Are you serious?"_

_"I am."_

_Her eyes were so terribly earnest, and for a second, Selene was tempted to take her offer. But…she would never last in a tribe like them. She had spent her whole life alone. And she would spend the rest of her life alone. It was how it was meant to be._

_She shook her head, taking a step backwards._

_"I have to go back."_

_"To him?"_

_"He is my mate. I am carrying his kittens."_

_"They are your kittens too."_

_Were they? Ever since she had gotten pregnant, it always felt as though she was just a vessel for his children. They were never hers._

_"Take them away," the Jellicle queen said, still looking intently at her. "Take them far away. Don't ever let him touch them. If you were to do anything, at least do that."_

_"They are his kittens," she snapped, louder than she intended. "I can't…"_

_She blinked, feeling the tears now in her eyes._

_She whipped around quickly, not wanting the Jellicle queen to see her face._

_"I'm just trying…"_

_"Go," she interrupted angrily. "Go before I change my mind."_

_Selene leapt back into the vent, wiping away her tears. She waited a minute before turning back around, and all she could see was the black sky and a thick blanket of snow on the ground._

_The Jellicle queen was gone._

_Selene realized, perhaps much too late, that she never even knew her name._

_#_

_Macavity was mad. More than mad. The guard on watch was questioned which much ferocity, though nothing came of it. He recalled nothing. It took almost two weeks for his anger to die down, and it was at that time that she could feel the pains of labor approaching._

_It was as though the atmosphere of the hideout changed immediately. Macavity had every queen under his command attend to her needs, helping her as she pushed, giving her water to quench her thirst. She wasn't sure how quick her labor was, she had never had a litter before, but she didn't think it took terribly long before she felt the first kitten beneath her. A second one soon followed, and with that, she was done._

_She bent down to see two kittens, each with tuxedo markings, as they breathed the air for the first time._

_Perhaps it was her ignorance, but her second kit – her son – he was so…small. Much smaller than his brother. It was the only noticeable difference aside from his paws, of which he only had one black while his brother had four. He was struggling to latch as well, pawing at her soft belly fur as he tried in vain to feed._

_It didn't take Macavity long to become informed about the birth, and strode into the room with great intent in his eyes. He glared at the kittens for what seemed like an eternity, and Selene couldn't quite make out what he was thinking underneath his hardened gaze._

_"This one's a runt," he finally snarled, pawing the smaller kit before turning his attention over to his brother._

_"Let's hope this one's powers manifest quickly. I'd like to start training him as soon as possible."_

_"For what?" she dared to ask._

_He told her again it was none of her concern, that she shouldn't pry into his personal matters. Her work was done, and once the kit was weaned, she had little reason to see him. Macavity didn't bother naming the runt, claiming he wouldn't last the night. The larger tom was named Mephistopheles, and it was within him that all his father's hopes lied._

_The only thing she could think about after that moment was the fact that he was going to take the kittens from her. From their mother._

_The runt let out a pitiful mew of hunger as he tried to feed, and Selene gently shifted Mephistopheles over to allow his brother some room._

_He was lagging behind, she knew. At a week old now, the runt wasn't gaining the weight he needed, but surprisingly had still managed to survive the last seven days. His father had found little interest in him, still solely focused on his much healthier brother._

_He had finished his feed for now, but was still rather restless, poking at her stomach with his tiny little paws._

_She sighed._

_"Why won't you sleep?" she asked._

_The kitten paused, looking up at her._

_Wait…_

_He was looking at her._

_With his eyes._

_His eyes were open!_

_It was utterly surreal, for all of his infirmities that came with being the runt of the litter, he had still managed to open his eyes before his brother._

_Selene was strangely proud._

_Another week had passed, the kittens were walking now._

_Sort of._

_Crawling would be the better word. Mephistopheles was much better at it, his legs were much stronger. He now lay across her chest in a milk-induced coma while the runt was next to her, very much not asleep. He half walked, half dragged himself across the floor, only to be stopped by a large ginger tom who had just entered the room._

_Macavity glared at the kitten, the tiny two-week old scrap of fur, who was sprawled on the dirt covered ground._

_"He isn't dead?" he asked, eyes red._

_His eyes were very red today, a side effect of his magic. He must have been mad about something._

_But the runt….he didn't seem frightened. Perplexed maybe, but he didn't scamper away or try to hide. He struggled to his paws and looked curiously upon the cat who sired him._

_Even Macavity looked rather impressed as the kitten bumped his nose into his leg._

_But the moment didn't last long. He nudged the runt out of the way, focusing once again on Mephistopheles who was angrily mewing from being woken up from his nap. The runt's cries could be heard in the background as he curled himself into a ball and shook violently from the cold._

_"Have you seen anything unusual about him yet?"_

_"No," she replied stonily, the screeches from both of the kittens ringing in her ears._

_Macavity scoffed, flexing his paw, unflexing his paw, flexing it again…he was agitated. And terribly impatient._

_He left the room without another word, as Selene tried to quiet down the children._

_She hated how little he cared for her. For their runt. She hated how he left her here to deal with the kittens while he went off to do who knows what. She….hated him. She hated everything._

_It took another week, another week of questions, of anger, of feeding and crying. The whole process was horrendous. They would be weaned soon, and as Macavity said, she would have little reason to see them after that._

_The white queen laid her head down to sleep, but was soon awoken by the sound of mews._

_She sighed, opening her eyes. The runt was awake, rolled on his back and having the time of his life as he pawed at nothing particular in the air above him. She reached over to swipe at the little tux again, to tell him to shut up, she needed to sleep…but then he looked over at her._

_His eyes…._

_Were they red?_

_She gasped, jumping up and coming in closer to him._

_His eyes…those were….it couldn't be._

_Did the runt have magic?_

_Selene had hoped that perhaps neither kitten did. She didn't want them to. Because that was what Macavity wanted._

_She thought back to what the Jellicle queen said, about keeping them away from him._

_What did Macavity want with them?_

_And as fast as she was surprised, she was then angry, as well. She didn't want them with Macavity. She didn't want them at all. She never wanted kittens. She wanted….she wanted to be wanted. To be loved. And all she got was pain. Why should Macavity get everything and her nothing?_

_She shook her head._

_No._

_She knew now what she wanted._

_She wanted to hurt him._

_Selene bided her time, building up the strength to complete what she had tasked herself to do. She would soon hit Macavity were it hurt the most, his legacy. The demolition of his family line. She would not let him twist the kits into the same evil that he possessed. Keeping them alive was a danger to all, especially in the paws of their father. She would not give him the satisfaction of her offspring's mere existence._

_It had to be done, she kept telling herself._

_It had to be._

_She waited until the middle of the night to make her escape. With only one guard on her now, slitting his throat with her sharpened claws was easy, especially with his back turned. The runt was asleep for once, and she placed him on her back while Mephistopheles hung from her jaws like a pendulum. She made her way once again through the hideout, and almost made it outside before she was caught._

_"Where do you think you are going?"_

_She turned around to see one of Macavity's henchcat's – Peter? – staring her down with a gleam in his eyes._

_Shit._

_She placed the kittens on the floor as he unsheathed his claws. She wasn't going to make it. She wasn't going…she wasn't a fighter. Not really. She would be killed in an instant._

_"I'm taking them out for some night air," she said coolly, trying to give nothing away._

_It didn't work. The henchcat leaped at her and she squeezed her eyes shut and…_

_And?_

_She felt…strange. Like something was building within her. Like something that had been lying dormant for quite a while. Something that she still couldn't quite comprehend. Selene whipped her paw out in an attempt to defend herself but the blow never came._

_She opened her eyes to see Peter thrown into a wall with a large crash and immediately knocked unconscious._

_What? Was that…magic? Did she do that?_

_Selene didn't have time to dwell on that thought, however. The crash was loud and surely would have woken up other cats by now. She grabbed the kittens again and left as quickly as she could._

_The night was cold as snow assaulted them from all angles. Mephistopheles whined constantly, yet the runt remained eerily silent. It still amazed her how he had to clung to life for this long, but it was a futile task in the end. If they weren't attacked by beasts tonight, then they would surely die from exposure. She supposed it didn't matter how they went out in the end, just as long as her task was completed._

_She traveled far, or at least it felt far. The snow was making it hard to walk, and her calves burned. Selene placed both kittens in the snow with greater sorrow than she would have thought. The runt hadn't moved the whole trip. She supposed he must already be dead, there were very few signs of life left in him. Mephistopheles continued to whine, especially as there was no heat source to warm him. They kittens were still too young to articulate, but she imagined that he was asking for food, for warm, for…well, anything but this._

_She turned around, not daring to look back in case her nerves got the best of her. She wasn't sure what to do now, but she knew that she needed to get as far away from here as possible to avoid Macavity or his henchcats imminent retribution._

_Even from a distance, she swore she could hear Mephistopheles' wails._

_Shaking her head, she continued on._

_They were a sacrifice she was willing to make._


	17. Quaxo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quaxo has a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My New Year's Resolution is to stop making Quaxo miserable. 
> 
> Wait...is it only July?

If there was one thing that set Quaxo apart from the other kittens (aside from…well, the _magic_ ), it would be the fact that he liked rules.

And not the arbitrary rules, such as no more food after dinner or only one pillow per kit at bedtime.

_No._

Quaxo liked the rules that made the world work. The sun always rose in the east and set in the west. Water was wet and fire was hot. One plus one always equaled two.

It didn't matter how bad his day had been, because he knew that the sun will always rise again the next day. And this gave him some level of comfort, the constants. The strict adherence to the norm.

But life would not give him the easy route.

Because Quaxo was born with magic.

And magic _had_ no rules.

Magic was finnicky. It was fickle. It never did what he wanted it to do. It followed no pattern, and it certainly didn't have any boundaries.

It...drove him mad.

Some days he would have a complete handle on his abilities and other days he would almost set himself on fire.

And it was just getting worse.

You see, _he_ was changing as well. The humans called it p-u-b-e-r-t-y - he wasn't sure what cats called it, exactly - but for a kit that didn't like change, the process was horrendous to say the least. He was getting bigger and heavier and his limbs were just a bit too long and sometimes he would just get upset for no reason and...and...

He _hated_ change.

It wasn't just him, either. All of the other kittens were acting strange as well. Pouncival couldn't keep talking about Bombalurina for some reason and Vicky got in trouble for k-i-s-s-i-n-g Plato behind the r-e-f-r-i-g-e-r-a-t-o-r. Jelly told him that this was the time when he might be looking at the queen kits a bit differently but Cettie and Electra and Vicky all looked the same to him. What was he supposed to be seeing exactly?

No, there _had_ to be something wrong with him.

There were things about him that he couldn't quite explain to the other kits.

Quaxo couldn't explain to Pounce why his books needed to be in alphabetical order, they just had to be, okay?

He couldn't explain to Tumble why he didn't like it when other cats touched him - " _no, Munkus and Tugger and Vicky and mother are allowed to but that's it_ " - and it didn't mean that he didn't like him but being touched by foreign paws made him uncomfortable.

He couldn't explain to Etcetera why loud noises bothered him so much, all he knew was that loudness made him anxious and when he was anxious then bad things would happen that he couldn't control. And he couldn't allow these bad things to happen because other cats would get hurt.

Quaxo didn't _want_ to hurt his tribe mates, which was why Munkus said he should keep his powers a secret. But it was just so... _hard_. Especially now when he was having so little success in asserting any level of control over his abilities. It seemed like every step forward he took, he would be going two steps backward at the same time.

Today was no different. Munkus had set up private sessions with the mystic twins, Coricopat and Tantomile, to help him control his powers. Twice a week they would take him outside the junkyard and teach him... _well_ , he wasn't sure.

How to be calm?

"Quaxo," Tantomile said softly, breaking him from his thoughts. "I would like you to keep trying."

Oh, right.

Today's lesson was simple, boiling a puddle of water.

Or, it was _supposed_ to be simple, but Quaxo found that magic never really was. It had been almost an hour of standing and straining and thinking very warm thoughts, yet the water remained at a standstill.

"It's not working," he glowered.

Coricopat shot him a sympathetic smile.

"It isn't working because your mind is out of focus..."

"...you are troubled..."

"It is natural for kittens of your age..."

"...who are experiencing mood swings..."

"...to have difficulties..."

"I _can't_ do it!" he cut in sharply.

The twins looked at each other briefly before turning back around, their icy blue gazes cutting through the small tux like a knife.

"If you do not believe you can do it, then you will never do it," Tantomile said simply.

Quaxo groaned, his exasperation reaching a breaking point.

"I can't _measure_ belief. I can't _weigh_ belief. I can't do _anything_ with belief. I need a guideline or a specific spell, or a self-help book...I don't know!"

"Belief isn't tangible, child. It is something you feel..."

"But there is no _logic_ in feeling!" Quaxo cried. "I can't control how I feel! I can't...I can't do..."

"Quaxo-"

"I give up!" he shouted angrily, clenching his paw.

Before he knew what was happening, Tantomile grabbed him as he heard the sound of what must have been a small explosion. Suddenly a stream of boiling water rained in-front of him, water that must have originated in the now-empty hole in the ground that the puddle once occupied.

"Cori are you okay?" he asked frantically, watching as the hot water pelted the brown tabby in the arm. He hissed in pain, wiping the liquid off with his paw.

"He'll live," Tantomile murmured, still clutching the tuxedo tom tightly.

"This is why," Cori grimaced, "you must learn to control your powers."

"I know, but..."

"What if you were around the other kittens when this happened, Quaxo? Your powers are directly connected to your emotional state."

He could feel the tears bubbling in his eyes.

"I know it is difficult," Tantomile interrupted gently. "Considering..."

"It's because there is something wrong with me, isn't there?" Quaxo said bitterly, wiping away a tear rolling down his cheek. "I'm different from them. I don't think the same way they do. I'm not.. _.like_ them. Munkus won't say it. Mother won't say it. But I know."

Tantomile shot another brief glance at her twin, who was still rubbing his arm.

"Did I develop wrong?" Quaxo continued. "Is there something wrong with my brain? Is it because I was born too small?"

_Is it because I'm a r-u-n-t?_

He could feel the meltdown coming. He could feel the sparks underneath his fur, traveling up his spine. He could feel the uncomfortable warmth that was spreading from his chest. He clawed behind his ears.

" _Deep breathes, little one_ ," Munkus would tell him. " _Don't focus on anything but yourself_."

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to control his breathing.

 _In and out. In and out. In and out.  
_  
"You aren't..."

_Please don't explode. Please don't set things on fire. Please don't make lightning._

"There's nothing…"

_In and out. In and out. In and out._

Taking another deep breath, he opened back up his eyes.

"Quaxo, it's not …"

"Please don't lie to me," he cut in, eyes locked on the mystic twins. "I know what I am. And someday someone is going to get hurt because of me."

_In and out. In and out. In and out._

He wrenched his arm out of Tantomile's grasp.

"I'm going back to the junkyard," he mumbled, quickly turning around.

He didn't look back.

#

Quaxo always had the weirdest dreams. It seemed as though every night he was seeing fangs and ice and darkness and death.

Were they memories?

He remembered so little of the before-time, and what he did remember was becoming less and less clear to him every day. Old mother just seemed like a white blur now. And...and he swore there was someone else out there with him. Someone else in the cold. But again, his memories were fading.

There was, however, one thing that always stuck with him.

The eyes. Those red eyes that almost seemed as though they were floating in the dark.

He wasn't scared of them anymore, not really. He was...curious. He wanted to know where he came from. He wanted to know more about old-mother. Did she give him a name? Did he have any siblings? How did he get his magic?

But these were things that Quaxo would never get answers to. And the older he got, the worse his thirst for knowledge became.

He woke up with a start, still feeling very warm. It was late, he knew, and all of the other kittens were asleep.

But he couldn't go back to sleep. His mind was still reeling, his eyes...he could still see those red eyes. Who did they belong to?

The warmth continued to spread, and Quaxo suddenly felt very uncomfortable. He had luckily avoided any serious magical mishaps when he had left his training session today, but he still felt anxious, and he wasn't sure why. But it was this anxiety that was keeping him up. He tried to ignore it by organizing his books once again, filing through the d-i-c-t-i-o-n-a-r-y, counting the digits of pi, nothing was working.

He...he wanted to cry. He didn't quite understand what exactly was happening to him. Maybe it was the h-o-r-m-o-n-e-s messing with him, or maybe this would be what it was like for the rest of his life. The feeling that he was standing on an edge of a precipice, and one wrong step would spell doom for those around him.

Munkus wasn't making it any better of late. He always seemed on edge as well, making him and the other kittens help out with fortifying the junkyard. Were they in danger? It was almost impossible to leave now without someone noticing, and for someone like Quaxo, it was suffocating.

_Everlasting, it's getting hot in here._

Was he sweating?

His eyes darted around to all of the sleeping kittens, and he could feel his stomach being tied up in knots. He didn't know what set it off this time, but he knew he needed to leave. He needed to leave now.

He could feel the sparks again, like little ants underneath his fur. Something bad was going to happen if he didn't calm down, and no amount of controlled breathing was going to help. He considered going to Munkus, but that would mean sneaking out and the nursery was guarded much more heavily now than it used to be.

Maybe...maybe he could t-e-l-e-p-o-r-t?

Quaxo knew that was a bad idea.

So, _so_ many things could go wrong. He could end up ten meters in the air or halfway through the nursery wall. He could end up right in front of whoever was on night watch and give himself away. He could internally combust or...

He nearly gasped as he felt another spark traveling up his arm. He slammed his paw on the ground before it had time to escape, burning himself in the process.

Everything inside of him was wrong. He could feel the power building, power that simply wouldn't be contained. It was going to come out eventually, and when it did, he shouldn't be here.

T-e-l-e-p-o-r-t-a-t-i-o-n it was.

Closing his eyes, the adolescent tux tried to find his center. As a whole, this trick wasn't hard, just moving something from one place to another. But Quaxo wasn't _something_. He was living. And with how his spells were going lately, he might end up t-e-l-e-p-o-r-t-i-n-g his head one place and his body another.

 _Focus._  
  
He shook his head, trying to envision the park that was close to the junkyard. It was dark now, and it should be closed. That meant no humans could see him.

... _hopefully._

He could see the nets and the swings and the grassy fields. He could see the l-a-m-p-p-o-s-t-s and the slides and the benches. He could see the trees surrounding the perimeter. He could do this. He could do this. He could...

He flicked his wrists forward and felt the familiar rush of air in his ears. He must have been flying for a second, or, at least it felt like it. Like his body was being pulled in all different directions as he was being t-r-a-n-s-p-o-r-t-e-d across space. The moment ended quickly, however, when his face made contact with a patch of dirt on the ground.

"Ow."

He rose up, rubbing his cheek with his non burned paw.

He...he did it!

He could see the park between the tree line, swings and slides and all.

He wanted to rush back to the junkyard now, to tell Demeter, to tell mother, to tell Munkus - _"see...I told you I could"_...but felt another jolt run through his body.

Oh, right.

He was here for a reason.

Quaxo turned quickly, running deeper into the small area of trees, and focused his energy in his paws. This has happened before, the sparks, the energy buildup, and the twins were still in the process of teaching him how to release this energy safely. He would need to practice magic regularly to prevent this from happening again, but given his current situation, it wasn't possible.

He pointed his paws at a tree, a sturdy one it looked like, and he could _feel_ it. The sparks, the power, it was building inside him, yearning to be released.

_In and out. In and out. In and out._

He _wasn't_ going to start a fire this time. One lightning bolt. That's all it was going to be. Just one.

_Focus._

The pressure was growing exponentially in his paws, larger and larger until a bright flash of light nearly blinded him. The lightening was...was it blue?

_How strange._

Large and static and blue, he forced the energy from his body onto the tree in front of him, and he could only watch as the tree was split open from the truck and crashed to the ground.

Quaxo almost collapsed, feeling entirely drained. His fur sparkled briefly, even as exhaustion seeped through him.

He succeeded. The poor tree didn't survive, but there were no casualties, no injuries, and no one was there to witness it.

Quaxo tried standing back up again, wincing at his now aching muscles. He needed to go back now, he knew. It was nighttime, but the sound was loud, perhaps loud enough for whomever was on the overnight watch to hear it.

He closed his eyes once more, focusing back on the nursery. It should be simple, really. If he could make it out here, then he could certainly make it back. There was no place in the world that Quaxo knew better than the Junkyard.

Flicking his wrists forward he once again experienced a floating sensation, the rushing of wind, the stretching of his bones and then….then….

Pain?

It felt as though he had slammed headfirst into a brick wall and was flung backwards.

He gasped, opening up his eyes.

No, he was _not_ in camp. What happened? Was something blocking him from getting back? Where was he?

There were no more trees. No more swings and nets and benches. He wasn't in the park anymore.

Quaxo tried to remain calm. It was fine. _He_ was fine. He would just try to t-e-l-e-p-o-r-t again, right?

He closed his eyes and felt….. _nothing_. It dawned on him, perhaps much later than it should have, that he simply didn't have enough power left in him to perform any magic. He had one chance to get back and he missed it.

It was cold outside, he realized. Cold and dark.

And he was lost.


	18. Quaxo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quaxo started from the bottom and....oh, how did he get even lower?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of notes:
> 
> \- This chapter contains depictions of underage drinking and implied threats towards a minor. 
> 
> \- I've gotten a couple of inquiries both on here and over on FF.net so I thought that I'd clarify that _yes_ \- I am writing Quaxo/Misto as being on the autism spectrum in some capacity.
> 
> _ I've taken some creative liberties with...ahem....feline alcohol consumption. Alcohol can apparently be fatal to cats in real life, so I'm glossing over that bit for this chapter.

All things considered, Quaxo was a solitary cat. He could spend the whole day just reading or dancing or singing or cat watching. He didn't mind being alone. Actually, he _preferred_ it. Being alone meant that there was more time to think and imagine and create. Being alone meant that there was nobody to touch him or to make loud noises. Being alone meant that there was no one to _hurt_.

What most cats didn't understand, however, was the fact that there was a difference between being _alone_ and being _lonely_.

He hated the feeling of loneliness, of isolation. No, he didn't feel particularly inclined to partake in whatever hairbrained scheme Pounce and Tumble have cooked up this time, nor did he want to gossip about the different ways of styling his fur with Cettie and Electra.

But the thing was, the _option_ to socialize was at least open to him. He might prefer being alone, but he could never say he was truly lonely.

Until now.

Wherever he ended up t-e-l-e-p-o-r-t-i-n-g to, there wasn't another cat in sight.

_Okay, so what was there to work with then?_

Quaxo walked slowly, _silently_ , looking for any signs of movement. Of life. As luck would have it, his search didn't take long.

He soon came across...what were they called?

H-o-u-s-e-s? The nests that h-u-m-a-n-s lived in.

H-u-m-a-n-s!

There were so many of them! Big ones and little ones and medium ones all walking around.

 _Oh no_. This was very bad. Quaxo dropped to all fours, knowing that this is what he had to do around humans. They must not see him standing on two legs. His burned paw ached terribly as he scampered to what looked like an alleyway where he could hide in.

Making himself as small as possible, the young tux contemplated his next move.

What should he do? He couldn't t-e-l-e-p-o-r-t home, there was something preventing him from entering the junkyard that way. Not to mention he was all out of magic. It wouldn't take long for the power to rebuild within him, maybe a couple of hours, but _a lot_ could happen in a couple of hours.

He was...stuck. And completely out of options.

Quaxo tried not to let fear permeate him, but the longer he stood here, the harder the task became. Luckily (or maybe not so lucky, given the situation) he didn't have enough magic to start producing sparks, which tended to happen if he was nervous. So what now?

There was a pipe looking thing on the side of one h-o-u-s-e. Maybe...maybe he could climb to the top? At the very least, Quaxo would have a good view of where he was. Maybe he would see something he recognized if he was high enough up.

The adolescent tux nimbly inched his way up the side of the h-o-u-s-e, being mindful of his injured paw, before leaping onto the r-o-o-f. He carefully peeked down to see the c-o-m-m-o-t-i-o-n below him.

 _Wow_ , there were a lot of h-u-m-a-n-s.

Was this normal?

They were dressed strangely too, he noted. Not that they weren't always dressed strangely, but this time was a bit different. One human kit looked like he was wearing a white s-h-e-e-t over his whole body with some eyes cut out. Another human kit was wearing a...a...what was it called? Some kind of hard green covering over his face. And another human girl was wearing a sparkly yellow d-r-e-s-s. Actually, a lot of the human girls were wearing d-r-e-s-s-e-s. None of the boys though.

H-u-m-a-n-s were...strange.

They were all carrying bags with them in all different shapes and traveled to different h-o-u-s-e-s in small groups. The boy with the s-h-e-e-t had a bag that looked like a p-u-m-p-k-i-n, in which the h-u-m-a-n at the door deposited some items that Quaxo couldn't quite make out inside of it.

Quaxo looked back up again, having had enough of this strange sight. Maybe he was too hyped up on adrenaline before, but it was now that he was beginning to notice the chill in the air. Actually, it was very cold outside, wasn't it? It was currently autumn and soon there will be snow again. He really needed to find a way to get home before he froze to death, and sitting on top of the house was not helping him. Quaxo was straining his eyes trying to find something familiar in the skyline, but came up short.

He sighed, slipping down the pipe again. There must be another way.

Next came the walking – _no, wandering_ \- as he had to consistently remind himself to stay on four legs. He was more tom than kit now, and had gotten used to standing on two legs as the adults tended to do. This task, however, was even more difficult with his burned paw that led him to walk with a rather awkward looking limp that did him no favors other than to slow him down. Quaxo couldn't quite keep track of time out here, and before long his search for other cats became instead a search for water. He was very thirsty now - _and very sweaty_ \- the only thing the young tux could think about was trying to quench that immense thirst.

He found himself near some...were they more h-o-u-s-e-s? He couldn't quite tell anymore. But he could hear noise and if there was noise then there must be h-u-m-a-n-s and if there were h-u-m-a-n-s then there must be water to drink.

Every instinct told him to not go inside. What if he couldn't get out? What if the h-u-m-a-n-s found him and hurt him or…or what if they locked him somewhere or petted him a lot and grabbed his fur or…

_In and out. In and out. In and out._

He must not lose focus. He needed water, and he needed it now. Somewhere in the h-o-u-s-e there must be water. There _must_ be.

It took another minute of deliberating before his parched throat overrode any previous indecision.

He was going in.

Quaxo slipped through the open window with ease and-

Oh.

There were so many h-u-m-a-n-s.

So _very_ many h-u-m-a-n-s.

They were older h-u-m-a-n-s and they were all moving and jumping and rubbing up against one another and...and...

Everlasting it was loud!

He hated the loud. The noise was defeating and there were so many lights...bright lights that flashed many colors. The humans weren't bothered by it though.

They seemed to... _like it_?

They were smiling and dancing and k-i-s-s-i-n-g each other and there was so many of them.

And it was so _so_ loud.

He skidded through the h-o-u-s-e, trying not to be seen. One of the h-u-m-a-n-s had shut the w-i-n-d-o-w and he couldn't go back the way he came. Quaxo ducked under many tables and chairs, trying to block out the noise and the lights and all of the funny smells. There was luckily another window on the other side, or at least he _thought_ it was a window. Or was it a door? It was big and see-through and the humans were walking through it to the outside.

Quaxo dashed as quickly as he could, slipping through the gap in the strange window-door, and made it to a grassy fenced in area in the back of the h-o-u-s-e. Finding a safe, unoccupied patch of grass, he stopped to catch his breath.

It was much less loud outside, and there were less humans as well. He wondered if perhaps this was a celebration, like the Jellicle Ball. Did the humans have a Heaviside layer? The young tux couldn't help but notice all of the p-u-m-p-k-i-n-s and spiders and weird green faced people with pointy h-a-t-s. Was this some sort of ritual?

How p-e-c-u-l-i-a-r.

Maybe he will find a book to read that will explain these strange h-u-m-a-n traditions. They didn't look terribly old, he realized. Older, perhaps, than the h-u-m-a-n kits that he had saw earlier, but not nearly as old looking as some of the adults. They didn't dress up like the h-u-m-a-n kits though. Actually, the h-u-m-a-n females were wearing very little clothing. Weren't they cold?

It was at that moment, however, that Quaxo had spotted what he was looking for.

Water!

Or, at least he _thought_ it might be water. It came from the spout of some strange looking metal contraption, which the h-u-m-a-n-s poured into their c-u-p-s to drink.

Quite _fervently_ drinking, he might add.

Quaxo waited in the corner, watching as a h-u-m-a-n female grabbed the arm of the h-u-m-a-n male, presumably trying to get him back in the h-o-u-s-e. The male placed his c-u-p on the grass and followed the female inside.

_Perfect._

Quaxo skidded to the c-u-p and grabbed the top of it with his teeth as he dragged it back to his hiding place. He tried to get a good look at the liquid inside, but the darkness was making that task rather difficult. It...looked clear...maybe? Was it slightly yellow-ish? He hesitated, but any safety precautions were soon pushed aside when he thought apart how terribly parched he was. This might be the only time tonight that he would have access to any liquids.

And it couldn't be poisonous if the humans were drinking it, right?

He dipped his tongue tentatively in the c-u-p, analyzing the taste. It was...watery? Like water but kind of bitter and...well he couldn't really describe the taste very well. It didn't taste good but it didn't taste particularly bad either. And that was good enough for him.

He dove back in with much gusto, lapping up the contents of the entire c-u-p.

It felt...nice. No, _he_ felt nice. Warm and fuzzy and...well, a little dizzy actually. But he found he wasn't nearly as cold as he once was.

In fact, he didn't feel cold at all!

Just...nice.

Nice and funny.

He pushed the c-u-p aside and stumbled through a hole the fence that led him back onto the street. Perhaps his exhaustion was messing with his coordination a bit?

Regardless, Quaxo found that his nerves had died down as he gazed at the crescent moon that hung so beautifully in the sky.

Maybe...maybe he would be okay out here. Life was good. Actually, life was _great_. And who cared about his powers or Macavity or having friends or...or...

What was he doing out here again?

Before he had a second to contemplate his last thought he ended up slamming into a wall of fur and ended up sprawled out on the sidewalk.

"And what do we have here?"

Quaxo blinked hard, trying to get his bearings. Was that voice aimed towards him?

He felt a paw nab his arm and yank him up.

It was...a queen, it looked like. Many toms and queens, some old and some young. And they were all looking intently at him.

"You have a name, kitten?" the orange tabby queen asked, her paw still wrapped around his.

"Uh..." he blinked again, feeling very dizzy. "Quaxo."

"Quaxo? What an interesting name…" the tabby queen purred, circling him. "What are you doing out here all on your own?"

"Got lost..."

" _I need your help!"_ he wanted to say. " _I want to go home. Will you help me find home?"_

But the words were stuck in his throat. These cats didn't look like _nice_ cats. They had the same look in their eyes that Pounce did right before supper.

"Oh, _really_?"

The other cats came closer...sniffing at him and touching him and they were all talking at the same time.

_"Leave 'im alone, Jass..."_

_"...how old is he?"_

_"He's a tuxedo...don't see them around these parts often..."_

_"Look at 'im! He's shaking..."_

_"...probably never been touched before..."_

" _Fresh as a daisy…"_

_"...oh, he's positively ravishing..."  
_

" _Leave him alone_ ," a new queen hissed.

Quaxo blinked hard again, trying to clear the fuzziness in his head. He didn't like these weird queens and they were all touching him and he _hated_ being touched and...

"I should expect better from you all," the new queen continued angrily. "He's just a kitten..."

"I'm _not_ a kitten," Quaxo mumbled, trying to stay upright.

If this queen heard him, she didn't acknowledge it. She looked older, maybe Jelly's age, and was grey all over. She looked as though she might have been a black cat when she was younger, but living on the streets have her a rather bedraggled look. She continued to yell at the other cats for a bit longer before ushering Quaxo to go with her.

"I'll take you my den," she said gently.

All of his senses said that he should not trust strangers, especially a stranger who was _touching_ him, but Quaxo felt too fuzzy and tired to protest as this strange queen took him away from the mean looking cats.

#

She led him to what could only be described as a tribe of _cars_.

Very old, broken down _cars_ that the _humans_ couldn't use anymore, and were just sitting in some lot where they were now being occupied by various furry creatures to nest in.

Her _car_ was smallish and blue with a broken...what did she call it?

 _Windshield_.

It could get rather cold at night, which was why she slept in the _trunk_ , she told him.

"Up you go," she said gently, guiding through the broken window onto one of the soft seats in the back. Quaxo didn't know where she disappeared to, but she came back a second later with a bowl of...was it water?

"Drink it," she said gently, and Quaxo immediately complied.

Yes, it _was_ water!

"Tastes good," he mumbled as he lapped the cool, clear liquid.

She chuckled.

"It'll help you in the morning, I promise."

He stopped, glancing up at her.

"With what?"

"The hangover."

He frowned.

What was a...

H-a-g-n-o-v-r

No...

H-a-n-g-o-v-n-e-r

Wait that didn't sound right either.

"What's that?" he said weakly, feeling a bit too fuzzy to spell correctly.

"Oh, dear," she murmured, taking the now empty bowl away from him. "You really are an innocent one, aren't you?"

"I'm _not_ innocent," he pouted. "I know a lot of things. I know that the we travel 'round the sun and the sky is blue because light is r-e-f-e-l-e-c-t-d...wait that's not right..."

"Are you... _spelling_? Out loud?"

Quaxo shrugged.

"I do funny things. It's why I don't have friends."

She laughed, sitting down next to him.

"Join the club, kitten."

"You mean those queens out there weren't your friends?"

She shook her head.

"More like coworkers. My friend...my _best_ friend...she's gone now. And it's just really been me since."

"I'm….sorry."

She shrugged.

"It was a long time ago, kitten."

Quaxo began to claw behind his ears again before remembering that his paw was burned and it hurt to move it.

"I don't have friends because all of the kittens think I'm weird and Jelly says that I don't understand social cues and I guess I don't really because I talk too much sometimes and other times I don't talk at all and...and... no one understands me."

He dropped his gaze.

"Tugger and Vicky are my only friends but Tugger doesn't live in the nursery anymore and Vicky spends all her time with Plato now and..."

The grey queen's eyes widened.

"Tugger?" she whispered.

Quaxo looked back up at her.

"You know him?"

"You're...a Jellicle?"

"You know _us_?"

She gave him a wry smile.

"I should have known," she murmured, eyes travelling up and down his body. "You have the figure of a dancer."

Quaxo blinked hard, trying to figure out what to say next. But his thinking process was muddled and fuzzy and he was so very _tired_ that he just remained silent as the queen continued.

"How did you get all the way out here?" she asked.

"Got lost..."

He paused.

"Munkus is gonna be mad at me."

"Is Munkustrap...your father?"

He shook his head.

"No but he kinda acts like it..."

 _Wait a second..._  
  
"How do _you_ know his full name?" he asked, trying to look her in the face...or _faces,_ because his eyes were making out two heads right about now.

She didn't answer him, looking rather lost in thought.

"Are you okay?" he asked weakly.

She exhaled, shaking her head.

"Come," she motioned, helping him back out the window. "Let's get you home."

"You know where I live?"

"Unless you switched junkyards, then yes."

He narrowed his eyes.

"Who _are_ you?"

She chuckled softly.

"Probably someone you won't remember in the morning."

She led him down some roads, then down some more, and if Quaxo was feeling normal, then he probably would have filed them away in his mind for future reference. But if he was feeling funny before, then he was feeling downright _awful_ now. He didn't remember how he ended up in the s-e-w-r-e-s or how this grey lady queen ended up carrying him most of the way even though he told her that _he wasn't a kitten_ , or how he might have a-c-i-d-e-t-l-y fallen asleep through part of it...

Wait, _why_ was he out here again?

"Are you doing okay?" she asked after some amount of time.

"I don't feel so good."

"If you're going to be sick, the underground would probably be the place to do it."

He responded with a groan, pressing his face into her fur. She continued to walk, humming some song that Quaxo vaguely recognized but couldn't put a name to.

"You have a pretty voice," he mumbled, trying not to fall asleep again.

"Thank you," she said in return.

"My mother has a nice voice too. She used to sing to me every night. Ac'tly most cats in the junkyard have nice voices. But yours is _really_ nice."

She let out another chuckle.

"I thought so too."

"You should sing p-r-o-f-e-s-o-i-n-l-a-l-y."

"What?"

Quaxo frowned.

" _Professionally,"_ he repeated.

"Oh. My spelling is a bit rusty, mind you. And I did want to be famous. I _strove_ to be famous. It's what I lived for, really."

"What happened?"

She sighed, gently placing him down on the ground.

"The world is large, kitten. And full of talent. There will always be another cat out there that is better than you, that is a fact. I just didn't realize that until it was too late."

"Munkus says it's never too late," Quaxo mumbled, eyelids heavy.

She gave him a small smile.

" _Munkus…"_ she murmured. "Are you close with him?"

"With Munkus?" Quaxo asked confusedly.

"Yes."

"I…uh…yeah. He saved me and he _understands_ me and lets me sleep in his den sometimes. Well not much anymore 'cuz Demeter lives there now so…." he trailed off, rubbing his eyes. "Why do y'wanna know?"

She smiled.

" _That_ sounds like him. Always looking out for others, never for himself."

"Huh?"

"I have done so much _wrong_ in my life," she continued softly.

"What wrong? Do you know Munkus?"

She didn't answer, looking lost in thought.

"How…"

" _Right,"_ she cut in, pointing into the distance.

"It's a straight shot from here. Maybe five more minutes of walking, then you'll end up in a pipe that should lead you to the center of the junkyard."

"Aren't you coming?"

She shook her head sadly.

"This is as far as I'm willing to go."

"But I'm sure Munkus will..."

"Please," she interrupted, "don't tell him how you got back here, okay? It's...better this way."

"I don't understand."

She sighed, sadness etched all over her features.

"Maybe one day I'll come back," she murmured. "One day. But I must leave you now. I've been gone long enough as is."

He could only nod, feeling a strange ache as he watched the grey queen leave in such an abrupt manner.

Would he ever see her again?

The young tux struggled to get to two legs, but immediately recognized that walking straight wasn't really an option. He collapsed back onto all fours, hissing at the pain in his paw and slowly made his way through the very dark and scary and bad smelling s-w-e-w-e-r.

_Did she say five minutes?'_

Quaxo couldn't even remember where he _was_ five minutes ago.

He was in pain and he felt sick and there was c-o-t-t-n in his head and _where_ was he again?

And then he felt it. The uncomfortable sensation in his stomach turned volatile, and he dropped down as his dinner was forced from his throat, the bile burning his mouth.

Is this was _death_ felt like?

He groaned, slowly getting back onto his paws. He wasn't about to die in a smelly s-e-w-r-e-r. No, he _had_ to continue.

Quaxo spent the last minute dragging himself along until he reached what must have been the end, but instead of the junkyard he ended up hitting...what was it?

A grate?

He could see his home through the slits, the TSE car, the oven, the tire, but he was stuck in the pipe. Did the grey queen know about this? How long was the grate here for?

Maybe...maybe if he had his magic he could make himself walk through the metal bars but he couldn't do anything now.

He was... _useless_. In the morning, perhaps, when other cats were awake they would find him and help him. But he didn't have the energy to yell, to scrape, to...to _think_.

All he felt was sick and cold and tired and empty.

He pressed himself against the grate, curling up in as tight a ball as possible.

It was _so_ very late now.

And he was so very lonely.


	19. Rum Tum Tugger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tugger wants to sleep, Bomba wants to sleep, and Quaxo is a Christmas Tree.

Tugger hated the nighttime watch shift.

Cut that, he hated _every_ watch shift.

Tugger was one of those cats that needed to be occupied by something or _someone._ He didn't know why Munk decided to punish him tonight, but what he did know was sitting on a pile of broken car parts staring out into the abyss for hours on end was not his idea of a good time.

Sure, it was true the Maine Coon was still figuring out this whole _adulthood_ thing, but he was only young once, right? In the nine months he had now spent out of the nursery, he experienced more than he ever thought possible. Bars and clubs and queens and toms...

He groaned.

Why was he here again?

Oh right, his brother was neurotic and intent on ruining his good time.

He could be going out right now. He could be sniffing some nip right now. He could be getting laid right now. He could be...

"Tugger?"

The leopard spotted tom turned around to find Plato climbing towards him.

_Speaking of adulting…_

The kit was only two months out of the nursery, but unlike Tugger he actually seemed upset about leaving. He theorized it might have something to do with his attachment towards the snowball kit whose name he kept forgetting.

"Are you here to relieve me from my misery?" he asked as the young tom came closer to the lookout perch.

"I'm actually kind of excited...I mean this is the first time I've gotten the overnight watch shift! Can you imagine? I'm responsible for the safety of the entire tribe and..."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Tugger cut in as he began his decent. "Fantastic. Actually, you know what? I bet you'd do such a fine job that maybe the tribe would be better off if you would take the rest of my shifts from now on."

"Really?"

" _Oh_ yes," he said, trying not to cut himself on the broken glass of a car window.

"But do you think..."

"Sorry, kit!" he yelled as he hit the grass. "Can't hear you from down here!"

Tugged hurried away before Plato could utter another sound. He was finally free now, and he was hungry.

No, _starving_.

If Tugger was wise, he might have saved some mice from his hunt this morning to eat later. But again, he was still getting used to this whole _adulthood_ thing. Foresight wasn't really in his repertoire. He contemplated going back out again, but it was awfully late now and trying to hunt in the dark just wasn't on the table for him.

Alright, maybe there were _some_ things he appreciated about the nursery. Like not having to feed yourself.

Or not having any responsibilities. Oh, those were the days...

He was just contemplating that last thought when he heard the pitter-patter of tiny paws.

_Wait…_

Yes, it _was_ dark and he _was_ tired, but...

Did he just see a mouse run by?

 _Inside_ camp.

It was a sign!

Tigger jumped on all fours and chased after the little brownish fur-ball through the center of the junkyard straight into the...

_Oh._

The pipe. _That's_ where it came from.

Most of the cats ignored the strange metal tube that lay right next to the somehow-still-functioning oven. Apparently it connected to the sewers which was why Percy blocked it off a while back to prevent whatever resides in there from coming into camp.

But Tugger was not one to give up so easily. He was hungry, and he was going to eat something tonight.

He squeezed himself into the pipe, trying not to let the lingering smell of sewage bother him. He could still hear the mouse's squeaks from further down and began to nimbly inch his way forward. The pipe increased in diameter the farther down he got, making it easier for the Maine Coon to navigate.

His journey was cut short, however, when his face made contact with...with what? Some kind of metal thing.

Oh, _that_ must have been what Percy installed.

Tugger could still see the mouse, he thought. It was almost pitch black in there, but he swore he could see fur, or...or _wait a second_...

No, that creature was _far_ too big to be a mouse.

Actually, he _recognized_ that scent.

" _Quaxo_?"

The little tux was pressed up against the grate, completely motionless.

What was he doing out here? Was he okay?

"Quaxo?" he asked again, a little more forcefully.

The furry mass didn't move, didn't even acknowledge him in the slightest.

Tugger could feel his heart drop into his stomach.

Was he injured? Sick? Dying?

No. No, Quaxo was fine. He _had_ to be fine.

Tugger stuck as much of his paw through the slits of the grate, barely touching the fur on the little tux's back.

Everlasting, he was cold.

 _Freezing_ , even.

But Tugger could at least perceive the slight rise and fall of his chest.

He...he was alive.

Tugger let out a breath he didn't even realize he was holding.

"Quaxo? C'mon answer me, sparkles."

He tried to shake him awake, but couldn't quite fit his paw far enough through.

Still no answer, only a barely perceptible moan that reinforced that there was life within him.

It _had_ to be magic, Tugger not-so-confidently concluded.

Somehow, Quaxo must have teleported himself out of camp and ended up in the wrong place. The question thereby remained - how was he going to get him out of the pipe? The London sewers were vast, there was no way he would be able to navigate them to this exact location before Quaxo froze to death.

Maybe he could use brute force?

Taking a step back, the Maine Coon grabbed the bars of the metal barrier and began to pull with whatever strength he had left in him. What greeted him was an awful wheezing sound as the bars began to bend under the pressure.

Tugger let go, gasping for breath. He could potentially rip the metal thing out of the pipe. It was entirely feasible.

But he couldn't do it alone.

He bent over, stroking Quaxo's fur to the best of his ability.

"I'll be right back, okay? Just stay there."

There was again no response, but Tugger didn't stop to wait for one as he exited the metal tube.

#

In situations such as these, the first cat he would have thought to go to would be Munk. He hated to admit it, but his brother always had a knack of getting cats out of sticky situations.

But Munk was also under a fair amount of self-imposed stress right now, and telling him that his favorite tux was trapped in a pipe might actually put him in cardiac arrest. Not to mention that Munk would assuredly find some way to blame Tugger for what happened and he wasn't about to be set up for more overnight shifts or dawn patrols.

_Alright, so now what?_

Alonzo was out, he would immediately tell Munk. As was Admetus, who had problems with keeping his mouth shut. Demeter would tell Jenny, Plato was on watch...

 _Everlasting_ , he needed more friends.

Tugger found himself running low on options until finally settling on the last cat he wanted to admit he needed help in front of.

"Bomba?"

The red queen groaned, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

"What?" she grumbled irritably, eyeing him up and down.

"I..." he paused, half tempted to go back and just try to get Quaxo out himself.

_Oh, get over your pride._

"I need your help," he mumbled, trying not to make eye contact.

"Excuse me?"

"I said I need..."

"Do you know what time it is, Tugger?" she cut in tiredly.

"I'm _know_ ," he responded, acutely aware of every passing minute. "I wouldn't be asking if it wasn't urgent."

She raised her eyebrows.

"Well, what is it, then?"

He cleared his throat, finding sudden interest in the ground.

" _Tugger_..." she repeated, sounding more than annoyed at being woken up.

"Quaxo's stuck in the pipe."

Silence.

Bomba blinked. Then blinked again. And finally laid her head back down.

"I'm going back to bed."

"I'm being serious!" he pleaded. "He's in trouble, Bomb..."

"He's tiny! The pipe is perfectly big enough for..."

"He's stuck on the other side of that metal thing Percy put in," he cut in quickly.

 _That_ caught her attention.

Bomba frowned, rising back up.

"How?"

"I don't know."

"I mean...he had to have snuck out right?"

Tugger shifted uncomfortably.

" _Well..."_

"Actually, that's kind of hilarious," she interrupted, frown turning into a smile. "Does Munk know that his kit is going out into town? Is that why you came to me and not him?"

"Uh, yeah. Exactly."

She stood up, letting out a yawn.

"Gotta give him credit," she finally said, making her way towards the exit of her den. "The kit's what...ten months? I didn't start sneaking out until I was at _least_ a year."

"Yeah, that's great. Can we get moving, please?"

Every second that they stayed here was another second that Quaxo remained stuck in the pipe. The walk, luckily, wasn't terribly far, and the two cats eased their way into the metal tube.

"It smells," Bomba grumbled. "You owe me."

"Well, I can think of several ways how I can make it up to you..." he murmured, noting how close her body was to his.

She chose to ignore him as they approached the grate. Quaxo was fortunately still there, looking as though he hadn't moved in the time he had been gone. Bomba bent down, trying to get a good look at him.

"Is he dead?"

Tugger froze.

_What?_

"Of course he's not..." he stuttered.

Bomba rolled her eyes.

"I was _joking_ you idiot. He's breathing fine."

Tugger could feel his stomach being tied up in knots.

"That _wasn't_ funny," he mumbled.

Bomba's gaze softened.

"You really care about him, don't you?"

"He saved me Bombs," he murmured, glancing back at Quaxo's still form. "I'll always care about him."

"From that pollicle? How..."

"It doesn't matter," he cut in quickly, grasping the bars. "Can you help me pull? I've already loosened it a bit."

The red queen looked like she wanted to question him further, but decided against it. She rose up on two legs and grabbed the bars adjacent to him.

"Ready."

It took some time, and some effort. Neither cats were in particularly bad shape, but the grate was melded tight into the pipe. Percy clearly knew what he was doing when he placed it in there. Tugger could hear the creaking and scratching sounds as the metal began to snap, and with one last tug, the two of them finally yanked the grate from its previous position and it hit the ground with a clang.

Bomba sank to her knees again, breathing heavily.

"Did I mention you owe me? You owe me."

Tugger could barely hear her as he quickly made his way to the small tuxedo laying sprawled out on the ground.

"Quax? You good buddy?" he asked, shaking his shoulder gently.

He was greeted with a soft moan.

"Bombs he's freezing," Tugger said frantically. "We need to...how...I don't..."

He turned to the red queen, trying not to show the panic on his face. The Rum Tum Tugger always kept his cool. But...he hated this feeling. He hated feeling like a stupid kitten again who needed to turn to the adults for help.

Except he _was_ an adult, wasn't he?

Sometimes...sometimes it really didn't feel like it.

"Lick his fur in the opposite direction," she instructed, her eyes never leaving his. "It'll warm him up."

Tugger complied immediately, and he could feel Quaxo squirming beneath him as his tongue made contact with his fur.

"Sorry sparkles," he mumbled in-between licks. "But I'm helping you, I promise."

It took maybe a minute, perhaps slightly longer, before Quaxo's eyes snapped open.

"Stop it," he whined, trying to escape from Tugger's clutches. "I don't like baths."

He let out a sigh of relief as Bomba came in beside him to inspect the small tux. She sniffed at him cautiously before stepping back, looking like she was trying to hold in laughter.

"What?" Tugger asked.

"Well...I think I know why your _little buddy_ there passed out in a sewer."

"It's because of the cold..."

"He's _plastered_ , Tug."

"Huh?"

She couldn't hold back her laughter any more.

Tugger felt himself growing rather warm.

"What's so funny?"

Her laughing continued.

"Bombs!"

She sniffled, trying to regain composure.

"He's _drunk_ ," she said, trying hard not to smile.

_What?_

"No...no, Quaxo doesn't drink..."

"He snuck out for a good time, chugged a bear and passed out in a sewer. Honestly? Good for him. Happens to the best of us."

"Quaxo _doesn't_ drink," Tugger repeated, feeling slightly less confident.

Bomba rolled her eyes.

"Smell his breath if you don't believe me."

Tugger shot her a glare before turning back around.

"Quaxo...how did you get in the sewer?

The young tux cracked open an eyelid.

"The grey lady queen took me here," he mumbled.

"The...who?"

"She said I was gonna have a h-a-g-n-o-v-r 'cuz of the yellow stuff I drank."

"Is he… _spelling_?" Bomba asked confusedly.

Tugger shrugged.

"He does that."

"Then she took me to the sewers so I can get home..." Quaxo continued. "And..."

"Look kit," Bomba cut in. "We know you snuck out, just fess up already."

"It's not my fault," Quaxo whined, trying to stand up but ended up face planting into Tugger's side. "I t-e-l-l-p-o-t-r-e-d wrong and got stuck out here."

Tugger shared a glance with Bomba.

"What?" they both said in unison.

"I t-l-e-l-p-o-r-t-d and..."

"Neither of us speak that, tux," Tugger said, feeling rather impatient.

"I _teleported_ outside and then I tried..."

"Quaxo!" Tugger cut in hastily, shoving his tail in his mouth.

Bomba furrowed her eyebrows.

"Tele-what?"

"It's uh...it's French," Tugger stuttered. "For...uh... _walk_. He...he walked out of the junkyard."

"Not it's not!" Quaxo cried, spitting Tugger's tail out of his mouth. "I used magic..."

"He _what_?"

"Quaxo shut it!" he hissed under his breath, turning back around to face Bomba.

"You're right, Bombs. He's drunk. He doesn't know what he's talking about."

" _Yes I do!_ "

"We should get him home and..."

"Tugger..." Bomba whispered.

"And...well he can sleep it off in my den..."

"Tugger, he's..."

"And I'll deal with him in the morning..."

"Tugger!" Bomba exclaimed. "Turn around!"

"What?" he cried, whipping around.

_Oh, for the love of..._

Quaxo was lit up in every color of the rainbow.

"Munkus says I look like a c-r-h-i-s-m-a-s t-r-e-e," he giggled before falling flat on his face.

Tugger swept the fallen tux with his tail and pressed him against his side before turning back to Bomba.

"Look Bombs...he's special, alright? But I promise he's not like _him_."

Bomba just stood there, eyes laser focused on Quaxo.

"Bomba..."

She cleared her throat, still looking slightly uncomfortable.

"How long did you know?"

"Remember that pollicle thing? I wasn't lying when I said he saved me."

"Oh, you _idiot._.."

She trailed off.

"I mean... _well_ , does anyone else know about this? I can name several cats who would be decidedly unwelcoming..."

"Just Munk and Deme."

Tugger paused.

"Well, and Jenny. I mean, she's his mother, after all. Also I think he told that snowball kit too, but I'm not entirely sure."

"Demeter knows?"

Tugger nodded.

"And...she's okay with it?"

"Honestly? She handled it much better than my brother did."

Bomba gave him a soft smile.

"She never fails to amaze me."

"So...I mean, are you alright with...with him?"

A second of silence passed as Bomba's gaze fluctuated between Quaxo and Tugger.

"If Demeter trusts him than I trust him," she finally said.

"And I trust you'll tell no one else?"

Her gaze hardened.

"I _won't_ tell."

Tugger breathed a sigh of relief.

"But Tug," she warned, glancing back at the sparkling tux, "secrets only grow."

Tugger sighed.

"I know, Bombs."

He turned back to Quaxo, who seemed entirely content pressing up against the Maine Coon's long fur.

"I guess you'll be staying in my den tonight, yes?"

Quaxo mumbled something incoherent in return.

"Can he walk?" Bomba asked.

"Doubt it."

He scooped the tux up and started towards the exit of the pipe.

"We're going to have to fix the grate, you know."

"You see Bombs, that sounds like a tomorrow problem."

"It _is_ tomorrow, you dolt."

"Well…a later tomorrow problem."

The three of them squeezed through the entrance of the pipe, which led out to the center of the junkyard.

"I'm dying," Quaxo moaned.

"Is that so?"

"I feel sick."

"Don't we all?."

"My mental faculties have been compromised."

"My...wait, what?"

Quaxo groaned again, screwing his eyes shut.

"I'm _dying_ ," he repeated.

Tugger chuckled.

"You're _not_ dying."

Tugger couldn't deny that it _was_ cold outside, however. And if it was cold for him, then it must have been even worse for short haired cats like Quaxo. Spending a night in the sewer probably would have left him with a nasty head cold, or perhaps something even worse.

With that thought in mind he quickened his pace as the tux borrowed himself comfortably in the larger cat's mane.

It didn't take long to reach his den, and Tugger gently placed Quaxo down near the corner. Unlike Munk, he did not have an abundance of blankets lying around. He grabbed the one blanket he did have and draped it over the little tux, who fell asleep during the last part of the journey home.

"Won't you get cold?" Bomba asked.

"He...needs it more than I do."

Tugger could feel his stomach growling, and he thought back to the mouse he chased into the pipe.

"Hey Bombs..." he asked sweetly. "I don't suppose you have any spare mice lying around?"

She raised her eyebrows.

"You seriously don't keep any extra?"

"You know...I find thinking about the future takes away from the now."

"You got hungry and ate them all, didn't you?"

"That's...so not the point."

His stomach growled again.

" _Please_?"

She sighed.

" _Fine_. But you owe me twice."

She looked at Quaxo in the corner.

"And I'll bring him some water as well. He's going to need it."

She left the den and Tugger sank to the floor, feeling a sudden onset of exhaustion.

Maybe it was the sound of Quaxo's steady breathing, but he could already feel his eyelids drooping, further and further down before...

" _Tugger_!"

His eyes snapped open to see Bomba standing in front of him, mouse in one paw and bowl of water in another.

Did he really just fall asleep?

And...why was she smiling?"

"What?" he asked weakly.

"Where's Quaxo?"

"Huh?"

Her smile grew.

"Where's Quaxo?" she repeated.

"He's right over..."

_Oh no._

Quaxo was not in the corner where he left him. Then where…?

Tugger tried to rise up when he suddenly felt an extra weight on his back. Craning his neck, he found a black and white ball laying comfortably on top of him.

_That little..._

Bomba chuckled.

"That kitten was comatose when I left here ten minutes ago. How in the world did he end up on top of you?"

Tugger sighed, laying his head back down.

"I dunno. He just does it?"

"You mean he's done it before?"

"Yup."

More silence.

"What?" Tugger asked irritably.

"The Rum Tum Tugger doesn't care for a cuddle, huh?"

"Oh, for the love of..."

"You've grown soft."

"I have not!"

"You nearly threw a fit when Tumblebrutus touched your mane on accident, yet your _little buddy_ here is all up in it and you don't..."

"Do you have a point?" Tugger growled. "The tux treats me like a pillow or a personal heater. And if I try to take him off of me he give me these doe eyes! How can I say no to that?"

" _You've grown soft_..." Bomba hummed, smile still plastered on her face.

Tugger shot her a glare before unhooking Quaxo from his back and placing him on the far end of the room. It took maybe a minute for him to blink open his eyes and look around confusedly before making his way back to Tugger.

The Maine Coon could feel his little claws digging into his fur as if to say..." _this area is mine and you will not take me away again."_

Tugger looked back up at Bomba with an _"I told you so"_ glare, and subsequently laid his head back down.

"You two are adorable."

"Can you leave now?"

"You never let me lay on you like..."

"Bomba!"

"Alright, alright," she laughed.

"Here's your mouse and the water. Oh and remember," she said, stepping out of the exit, "you owe me!"

Tugger sighed, the exhaustion overwhelming him. Overnight shift sucked. It was probably close to morning now and Munk would be in here yelling at him about something and he was tired and irritable and hungry and...

"Tugger?"

_He's still awake?_

"What is it?"

The little tux yawned, shifting up closer towards Tugger's mane.

"Thank you for rescuing me," he mumbled softly.

Even if he _was_ hungry and tired and smelled a bit from the sewer, Tugger still couldn't help but smile as he closed his eyes once again.

"No problem, sparkles."


	20. Rum Tum Tugger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Misto is a little shit (but Tugger loves him anyways)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me? An update? This year?
> 
> Sorry guys, I've been sitting on this chapter for a while. It was originally going to be a lot heavier, but I ended up moving the angsty stuff for next chapter (when I get around to writing it, that is). 
> 
> For now, fluff.

Quaxo was a restless sleeper.

It wasn't something Tugger noticed - _or cared_ \- about at first, given that he walked a fine line between slumber and complete death every time he closed his eyes.

But tonight was different in the fact that Tugger was trying to stay awake, or at least cognizant enough to notice if something was wrong with his sparkly friend. He didn't want Quaxo accidentally choking on his own vomit or some other infirmity that comes with drinking too much alcohol.

It must have been an hour or two before sleep dragged him under, but it didn't take long for him wake right back up. When you had to deal within a hungover kit lying on top of you, slumber became more of a luxury than a necessity.

Quaxo was... _well_ , Tugger wasn't quite sure.

He could feel Quaxo tossing and turning on top of him, mumbling incoherently into his mane. It was... _worrisome_ to say the least. Unsurprising, but worrisome.

Tugger was about to wake him up when Quaxo ended up rolling off his back and slamming into the dirt.

Tugger jumped to his paws.

" _Everlasting_...are you okay, tux?"

" _Mmmmfine_ ," Quaxo slurred into the ground.

"If this is you _fine_ then I don't want to know what you're like when you're not fine."

Quaxo mumbled something again that Tugger couldn't quite make out.

He sighed, bending back down.

"Do...you want some water or something?"

Utter silence.

" _Tux_?" he asked again, shaking his shoulder.

"Okay," Quaxo said softly, eyes still firmly shut.

Tugger could feel him trembling under his touch. He wanted to convince himself that it was just the cold, Quaxo was so _small_ \- lean in places where other kits were sturdy - and didn't have the luxury of having long fur.

But Tugger knew better.

He knew about the dreams - _night terrors?_ \- the screaming. This certainly wasn't the first time Quaxo had slept over in his den, and it definitely wouldn't be the last. Tugger wanted to ask what he was dreaming about - _what he was always dreaming about_ \- but couldn't gather enough confidence to do so. Quaxo had demons that Tugger didn't dare probe, though of late he felt like he should.

He made his way across the den, trying not to knock anything over in the dark. Quaxo continued to mutter in the corner, and Tugger was able to make out a couple of words.

_Eyes._

_Red._

_Rats?_

_Red._

_Dark._

How ominous sounding. Where in the world _was_ he before Munk found him?

_Snow._

_Red._

_White._

_Meph..._

_What?_

The last word didn't sound like a real word.

"What'd you say?" he asked cautiously, fumbling around for Bomba's bowl of water.

" _Mephistopheles_ ," Quaxo repeated dully.

Tugger frowned.

"What's that?"

"Name."

"Yeah, I...well, _who's_ name, sparkles?"

More incoherent mumbling.

Tugger resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He couldn't find it within himself to be mad, names _were_ progress. Names were important, especially to Jellicles. Maybe it was a sign that Quaxo was starting to remember more about his past. He didn't know if that would stop the nightmares, but it was better than nothing. And it broke his heart to see Quaxo in such a state every night. He was far too young to look so tired all the time.

He reminded him of Munk.

" _Who's_ name?" he asked again, finally making contact with the bowl.

Now he was met with only silence. Tugger inched back towards the other side of the den to find Quaxo dead asleep, curled up in a tiny ball of black and white.

Sighing, he placed the bowl back down.

Maybe Quaxo's mumbles were all they were - _mumbles_. Gibberish spewed from the mouth of a drunken kit.

Maybe he wasn't fully awake when he was saying those things regardless.

_Maybe._

It was definitely too early to be thinking so hard. Tugger lied back down - pressing himself against Quaxo's still form in the hopes of transferring some body warmth - and prayed to the everlasting cat that both of them could get as much sleep as possible before the sun rose to meet them.

#

They got an hour.

Maybe less.

Tugger was dreaming - mice, honey, bowls of warm cream - nice things. _Edible_ things. Had he eaten anything since his watch shift? Bomba's mouse was still lying untouched somewhere in his den, so the answer to that was a resounding _no_. Still, all good things must come to an end, and Tugger was soon jolted back into consciousness by the sound of someone shouting his name.

No, not _someone_.

Tugger groaned, forcing his eyes open to see his brother standing at the entrance of his den looking rather perturbed.

"You hollered?"

Munk narrowed his eyes

_This'll be fun._

"Where is he?"

"You'll have to be more specific, brother mine," Tugger replied dryly.

"You know who."

"Ah yes. Though I do believe Gus still sleeps at the theater..."

" _Everlasting_ , Tugger!" Munk hissed. "Where's Quaxo?"

"Well now, how was I supposed to know _that's_ who you were referring to?"

Tugger knew it was unwise to push Munk's buttons, especially with his brother looking about a second away from a heart attack at any given time, but _he_ was tired too.

"He isn't in the nursery," Munk said through gritted teeth. "He's not at Jenny's either. Or my den. That only leaves..."

"Yeah, yeah. You caught me," Tugger interrupted, trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes. "He's right...uh..."

Quaxo wasn't next to him anymore.

_Fantastic._

Tugger shifted over slightly to reveal a suspicious black furball that somehow managed to burrow itself in his side. Well, more like half underneath him. All things considered, this _shouldn't_ have been surprising - Quaxo _did_ have a way of creeping through the tiniest cracks - but it was still unsettling to think that his sparkly friend might end up squashed in the near distant future.

"Tugger," Munk said, looking more visibly relaxed. "I _told_ you that he needs to stay in the nursery..."

"Yes, but hear me out."

"Here _what_ out?"

"The nursery sucks."

Munk looked ready to explode.

"That's _not_ an excuse..."

"What are you? The excuse police? Can I go back to sleep now?"

"It's morning," Munk responded flatly.

"I'm a _cat_. I need my beauty sleep. Someone - _not naming any names_ \- put me on the overnight shift."

Munk exhaled, crossing his arms.

" _Everlasting_ help me..." he murmured to nobody in particular.

"I think the big ol' cat in the sky has better things to deal with then your existential crisis, brother dearest," Tugger said with a smirk.

This was too easy.

Just as Munk looked like he was going lay into him, Quaxo shifted, letting out a soft moan of discomfort.

_Uh oh._

He was still hungover. Tugger eyed Munk nervously. This was bad.

"You uh...doing alright sparkles?"

" _Tugger_..."

Quaxo blinked blearily at him, struggling to his paws.

"Tugger, what's _wrong_ with..."

Munk didn't get to finish. Quaxo sputtered briefly before his jaw snapped shut. He dashed across the den and proceeded to hack up the remnants of his stomach inside of Bomba's bowl of water, his sides heaving with the effort.

Tugger winced at the sight, slowly turning back towards his brother. Munk looked positively livid.

 _Shocking_.

"You didn't tell me he was sick!"

"You didn't ask."

_If looks could kill..._

That was definitely the wrong thing to say.

" _Why_ ," Munk growled, "did you not bring him to Jenny?

"Well you _see_..."

"It's cold outside, Tugger!" Munk cut in. _"Cold!_ This type of weather could kill a kit like him..."

"Come off it, Munk! He's _hardly_ a kit..."

"You are an _adult_ , Tugger. You need to be more responsible..."

"You're overreacting..."

"...for yourself and for those around you..."

Oh, _this_ was how it was going to be.

_Wonderful._

Talks about responsibility was Tugger's favorite subject, right behind...literally anything else.

 _Anything_.

"...and it is vital that you..."

"Please Munkus," Quaxo cut in softly.

Tugger whipped around at the sound of his voice. The tux didn't look _well_ , he admitted. It was easy for cats with a disposition prone to nervousness - _such as dear old Munk_ \- to be fearful at the sight.

But Tugger knew better.

"...it's not _his_ fault."

Munk's eyes softened.

"It's okay, little one..."

_Oh, for the love of..._

Why was his brother so predictable? Quaxo didn't even have to try anymore.

"No it's _not_ ," Quaxo continued, eyes wide. "I disobeyed you. I...I wasn't feeling well and I didn't want to bother Miss Jelly or the other kittens. I've been such a bother of late..."

"You're never a _bother_ , Quaxo. You know that."

Quaxo sniffled, winding his tiny body between the protector's legs.

_Clever bastard._

Tugger could practically see Munk melting before his very eyes.

"Are...you sure?" Quaxo murmured, nuzzling Munk's hind leg.

"Of course I'm sure, little one."

" _Great_ ," Tugger interrupted. "We've got that sorted. Can I go to bed now?"

Munk sighed.

"Next time," he said, eyes laser focused on Tugger, "tell Jenny or I if he isn't feeling well."

"Fine."

" _Tugger_..."

"I said fine, didn't I?"

Munk let out a grunt of annoyance.

"I'll tell Jelly not to expect Quaxo back until dinner time. Please try and keep him alive until then."

"Sure thing, brother mine."

Munk rolled his eyes, giving Quaxo a quick lick on the ear before leaving the den.

_Finally._

Quaxo remained tightly rooted to his spot on the ground, looking as though he was in no rush to get up. Tugger wasn't having it.

"You manipulative little shit."

Quaxo raised an eyebrow but remained silent.

"You..." Tugger groaned, rubbing his temples. "I can't believe it. I really _can't_. I mean...the stuff he lets you get away with. It's not fair. It's...it's just not _fair_."

"It's not _my_ fault I was born with big eyes and a small body," Quaxo responded simply, avoiding eye contact.

"Seriously? I was bigger than Munk when I was your age."

"You act like that's a bad thing."

"It's...it's..."

"Not fair?"

"No," Tugger replied stonily. "He'll let you get away with _anything_ , you know that?"

"That's not entirely..."

"Oh, yes it is! You could walk out right now and taser Admetus in the face and you know what Munk would do? He's probably _thank_ you."

Quaxo snorted.

"So would Alonzo."

"That's _not_ the point!"

"You sound jealous."

"I'm...... _yeah _, I guess I'm a little jealous, sparkles."__

____

"A _little_?"

____

Quaxo padded over slowly, nuzzling Tugger's side.

____

"And you shouldn't be. I don't feel too well, Tug," he mumbled.

____

Tugger sighed, wrapping his tail around the young tux. Quaxo was just so hard to stay mad at. 

____

"Alcohol will do that to you. I would say to drink water, but...you puked in it."

____

"Sorry."

____

Tugger shrugged. "It wasn't for me."

____

A moment of silence fell over the two toms. Whether Quaxo was aware of it or not, he was still trembling. Tugger wanted to ask. He _should_ ask.

____

He...he was afraid to ask. Not for him, but for Quaxo. But if that was what it took...

____

"Tux?" he finally questioned.

____

"Hm?"

____

"You were dreaming last night..."

____

Quaxo looked up.

____

"Was I?"

____

_Deep breaths._

____

"Yeah. And... _well_ , you said some things."

____

"What things?"

____

"You don't remember?"

____

He shook his head.

____

"I never remember."

____

Tugger paused, looking down at the dirt below him.

____

"Did...I say something weird?"

____

"Uh...not _weird_ , per say..."

____

Quaxo frowned.

____

"What then?"

____

_Everlasting, just get on with it._

____

"You said a name."

____

"W-what name?"

____

"Meph...uh...Mist...Mistofleas...no wait I think it was pronounced Mistoffelees."

____

A beat.

____

"I _think_ ," Tugger added on weakly. "It was kind of long."

____

He was met again with silence.

____

"...tux?" Tugger asked gently. "Are you okay?"

____

Quaxo blinked, eyebrows furrowed.

____

"That's a weird name. Are you sure you heard it right?"

____

"When am I sure of anything? Actually, _don't_ answer that, sparkles."

____

Quaxo shrugged, electing to ignore him.

____

"It's probably nothing," he mumbled, pressing further into Tugger's side. "Can we go back to bed now?"

____

_He's avoiding the question._

____

He probably should of pushed further, but _everlasting_ was he tired. This seemed like a not-now type of problem.

____

Though to be fair, most problems were not-now problems to Tugger.

____

"On one condition."

____

"What?"

____

" _You_ , my dearest little tux," Tugger pronounced, flashing him his best smile, "are going to clean out your puke filled bowl."

____

"Do I have to?"

____

"Do you want to incur Bombalurina's wrath?"

____

"I wouldn't incur anything. _You_ would."

____

_He's got me there._

____

"Did I mention you are a manipulative little shit?"

____

"Language, Tugger. I'm only a kitten."

____

_When it suits you._

____

"...please? It smells."

____

Quaxo swatted him gently.

____

"Only for you, Tug."

____

He watched the young tux wave his paws about, and the smell finally dissipated. Quaxo settled back down beside him, though with his track record, he might end up on top of him within the next minute or two.

____

Tugger found that he didn't mind all that much.

____

Because for now, things were okay. Maybe not great, but certainly _okay._

____

____

_For now._

____


	21. Rum Tum Tugger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tugger is fine.
> 
> No really, he's _fine_.

Tugger slept well this time around.

 _Well_ , of course, being relative. Managing to go several hours without being woken up by some combination of his screaming kitten fan club, Plato asking for relationship advice, or Munkustrap sharing his disappointment over something he did - _or had yet to do_ \- was a win in his book.

Tugger yawned and stretched his muscles, slowly making his way to his paws. He was _sore_ \- his arms, his legs, even his claws were aching something fierce. Sitting for hours on top of a junkpile was doing terrible things to his joints.

It didn't take long for him to recognize that his den was one magician short. Quaxo's most frequent locations- on top of him or beneath him – were out, and Tugger then checked every nook and cranny to no avail. Normally that would be the end of that, but Quaxo was dutifully irregular. He would be missing for one moment just to show up in the same place you just looked a second later with no explanation of how he got there. It wasn't uncommon for Tugger to come into his den and try to sleep, just to find - _several hours later_ \- that Quaxo had actually been there the whole time.

He was one sneaky bastard.

But no, Tugger was certain that this time around the tux wasn't in his den at all. He wasn't in the corner or hanging off the ceiling, nor was he attached to some part of his body like a sparkly parasite.

Quaxo wasn't here.

 _Huh_.

Fine. That was...fine. Understandable, even. Tugger had been sleeping for...how long? A while. It made sense that Quaxo would find entertainment elsewhere.

Of course, therein lied the question - where _was_ he?

The nursery was out, Quaxo absolutely despised the place. Tugger didn't blame him - _he_ once hated the nursery just as much as Quaxo did. Of course, Tugger was also the only kit in the nursery for the first six months of his life, possibly skewing his opinion a bit. Munk's den was an option, though space in there became limited after he officially mated with Demeter.

Jenny's? That was hit or miss. Tugger once visited to get something for a rather nasty headache - _which absolutely, positively, was not the result of a hangover_ \- and ended up getting roped into picking ticks off Gus's coat for the remainder of the afternoon.

Whatever power Jennyanydots had over persuading cats to 'help out' with her chores, Tugger wished he was able to learn.

What was he trying to do again?

Right - _Quaxo_.

His little hungover friend couldn't be far. Tugger finally ate Bomba's mouse to help quell his protesting stomach and made his way outside.

As luck would have it, he didn't have to wander far before Quaxo came into his sight line.

He looked...not great. Sure, copious amounts of alcohol probably wasn't ideal when one wanted to portray some semblance of normality - _Tugger would know that better than most_ \- but even still, Quaxo looked decidedly _unwell_. He was perched on a pile of trash, staring down at what appeared to be a dance lesson with the other kittens.

Or at least, Jellylorum was _attempting_ to portray some level of structured learning but had quickly devolved into a cacophony of badly sung song lyrics and out of place backflips, thanks to the efforts of Tumblebrutus and Pouncival.

_Ah, Jellicle Songs._

With the ball four months away, it was now time to start teaching the newest hyperactive litter the choreography. Tugger was lucky enough to have barely made the cut last year to attend the ball, meaning that he didn't need to partake in any lessons aside from the brush ups several weeks out. Plato however, wasn't as fortunate. His poor friend looked ready to pull his fur out after Pounce tumbled unceremoniously down an enticing pile of trash.

He finally drew his gaze back to Quaxo, who was fixated on the garbage fire of a lesson occurring below them. Tugger padded up slowly, unsure of what to say.

His dearest little Jemima once confided in him several weeks back, claiming that none of the kittens quite knew how to _read_ Quaxo. He was rather... _distant_ when around them, she told him. No-one ever knew quite what the young tux was thinking.

Tugger thought that was ridiculous. Quaxo wore his heart on his sleeve - he _always_ did. But after some thought on the matter, Tugger came around to the conclusion that maybe it _was_ the amount of time spent together that made Quaxo so easy for Tugger to read. The young tux didn't hang around the nursery unless it was a necessity, so it was probably easy for the kittens to misconstrue his feelings as aloof or standoffish. It was something Tugger would have to work with him on in the future.

Now, however, Tugger could practically _feel_ the anxiety radiating off him. Quaxo was rigid - _practically statue like_ \- on top of that junk pile, and gave no indication that he had even seen Tugger come up.

"Are you... _okay_ sparkles?"

Tugger reached out and was immediately zapped when his paw made contact with Quaxo's fur.

_Ow._

So _that's_ how it was going to be.

_Fine._

"Is this the part where you don't feel like talking to me? Because I can be incredibly persuasive, I _assure_ you."

"What do you want Tugger?" Quaxo responded flatly, eyes still fixed on Jelly's dance lesson.

"What's up with you?"

" _Nothing's_ up with me."

"You zapped me," Tugger frowned.

"Not on purpose."

"That's not..." Tugger groaned. "Seriously, are you _that_ upset you're missing out on dance practice? I figured you'd be happy not having to deal with Tumble and Pounce's shenanigans for the afternoon."

Quaxo opened his mouth as though to talk before quickly closing it. There was some sound that emanated from his mouth - sorrowful, almost. He clawed his ears.

"Okay _no_ ," Tugger asserted, grabbing his paws. "Seriously, you're going to hurt yourself if you keep doing that."

Quaxo let out a hiss of pain, yanking his paw out of Tugger's grasp.

Was his paw...burned?

Tugger narrowed his eyes.

"What happened last night?" he asked, trying to keep his voice level. "If someone hurt you..."

"No! No..." Quaxo interrupted quickly. "It's not that."

"Then what? Did you feel like roasting your paw over an open flame during your night out?"

"It's not…"

"….marshmallows too hard to come by?"

" _Tugger_ …"

"…I prefer the chocolate myself…"

"It's my _magic_ ," Quaxo hissed.

Tugger paused, eyebrows furrowing.

"….what?"

"It doesn't like being contained. It...it hurts, Tug. I don't use it enough and it _hurts_."

Quaxo squeezed his eyes shut. His paw shot back up towards his ears.

"What do you mean you don't use it enough?" Tugger asked, lunging to grab Quaxo's paw once again.

"It builds." He sniffled. "Inside of me. It _hurts_."

_Everlasting…._

Why didn't he know that? Was Quaxo in pain all of the time, trying to hide his magic from the tribe? Did….Munk know?

"Oh, sparkles..."

Tugger trailed off, squeezing Quaox's non-burned paw even tighter. The young conjurer really looked terrible. He clearly didn't sleep at all since Munk's interruption early this morning. Tugger was afraid this would happen, being stuck out for hours in a cold and damp sewer. His paw was warm too, _far_ too warm.

Quaxo coughed weakly, trying to escape from his grasp.

"I had to leave last night," he continued softly. "The magic had built up too much and it's _destructive_. I t-e-l-e-p-o-r-t-e-d out and burned down a tree but I couldn't get back. Something was stopping me from t-e-l-e-p-o-r-t-i-n-g back..."

"You know I can't spell, Tux..." Tugger cut in gently.

" _Teleported_. I couldn't teleport back. That's how I got stuck."

Tugger sighed, releasing Quaxo's paw.

Another sniffle. Another cough. The young tux turned back towards the dance class below. Maybe he was just seeing things, but Tugger swore the sky was getting darker.

That wasn't good.

Tugger knew of Quaxo's... _difficulties_...in controlling his magic, especially of late. He just didn't know that it was this bad. It _shouldn't_ have been this bad. His memories of Macavity were admittedly fleeting, but the ginger tom always seemed to be in control of his abilities. He wielded so much confidence, enough to inspire a young Tugger's attempts at mimicking it.

Of course, then he went insane - _or was he always insane?_ \- tried killing half the tribe and, well, that was the end of that.

He inched slightly closer to Quaxo, not enough to touch him, but enough to let him know that he was there.

He was there and he _wasn't_ leaving.

Another cough.

"You know, maybe Munk was right in seeing Jenny about this," Tugger suggested softly. "I mean...with this weather the cough is only going to get worse."

Quaxo shook his head.

"No, I'm not going over there," he said, voice shaking. "I _can't_..."

"Why? Accidentally knock over her yarn or something?" Tugger said, trying to ease the tension.

It didn't work.

Quaxo's breaths came out as gasps.

"Quax..." Tugger grasped his friend's shoulders. " _What happened_?"

"The _tapping_ , Tug," Quaxo whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. "I didn't mean to! It was so loud..."

"I'm lost."

Another sniffle.

"Sparkles...?"

"Jenny's number? At the ball?"

Tugger frowned. "The beetle thing? Yeah I think it's stupid too.."

"No," Quaxo cut in. "It's not about...it's the _tapping_. We were practicing - all of us - and it got so loud... _so_ loud...everyone was out of step and it _hurt_..." Quaxo trailed off, pressing his face against Tugger's chest.

Why did it always come down to the sound? Quaxo hated being touched by most cats- _fine_. They could control that (mostly). But it was always the _sound._ For some reason, Quaxo couldn't stand the sound. Kittens are kittens and they talk and they're _loud_ , it's just how it was. Tugger knew it would drive him insane.

"...I blew up one of the lanterns..." Quaxo mumbled through Tugger's chest fur. "Plato got singed a little and the f-i-r-e started to spread."

"The wh-"

" _Fire_ ," Quaxo repeated, lifting his face back up. "Munkus was able to get most of it out but...I didn't _mean_ to Tugger. I could have hurt them or burned down the camp or...or..."

"Tux..." Tugger interceded. "I sure Munk knows you didn't mean it."

"I'm _dangerous_ , Tugger."

"You're not..."

" _Yes I am!"_

Lightning split through the sky. It was getting really dark out.

_Shit._

"I can't control it. I've _never_ been able to control it. Now I'm not allowed to dance anymore because I'm a safety risk..."

"What? How can he not let you...but you _love_ dancing..."

"I hurt things, Tugger!" Quaxo hissed. "It's all I know how to do."

Oh, this was _bad_. This was going bad very quickly.

Tugger stood up, yanking Quaxo towards him. One glance down and he could see Jelly gathering up the kittens to find shelter for the incoming storm.

"We're going back to my den, okay?"

Quaxo didn't respond and Tugger didn't wait for one. He needed to get him inside _now._

Another lightning strike.

Quaxo's paw was burning his. Quaxo was burning.

"Tugger I _can't_..."

"It's okay. I promise, it's okay."

It wasn't. The rain came down with a vengeance, slamming into the ground, into the garbage piles.

It was loud.

And Quaxo _hated_ noise.

Tugger did manage to reach his den again with Quaxo in tow, shoving the young tux through the door as he soon followed. Tugger was _soaked_. He was soaked and his paw was aching.

But he couldn't worry about that right now.

"Are you okay, sparkles?"

It was a dumb question. He was clearly _not_ okay. Quaxo was shaking like a leaf as the rain water dripped off of him onto the floor.

"This is my fault," he cried, hugging himself tightly in some effort to conserve warmth.

"Maybe...but that's why you're fixing it, right? You're _learning_."

"But I'm not!" he yelled as the rain continued to pour. "I'm am a _danger_..."

"You're not a danger..."

"...to you and everyone else..."

Something exploded. A teacup, maybe? Tugger had quite a lot of junk in his den. A lot of _breakable_ junk.

Oh, this was _bad_.

Tugger had seen Quaxo melt down before, but he was younger then. More easily subdued. Munk had told him that his power would grow as he aged, but Tugger thought that was a load of crap. Isn't this the same tux that burned down half of a forest at the ripe age of three months?

What made it difficult was that _yes_ , Quaxo _wasn't_ like other cats. It didn't make him bad, but...well, he tended to _fixate_ on things.

" _Rock brain,"_ Jenny would call it.

And for the most part, this was _fine_. Just let him be for a few hours to work through whatever it was he needed to work through and he'd be okay.

But now, Tugger unfortunately didn't have that option. Quaxo was losing control quickly, and there was nothing that he could say to break him out of it.

"Tux..." he tried futilely but found the words wouldn't leave his throat.

Quaxo was still talking, some words Tugger was able to make out.

' _Danger.'_

' _Kill.'_

' _Magic.'_

' _Different.'_

_Oh, sparkles..._

He wanted to hold him. To tell him it was okay. That there wasn't anything _wrong_ with him.

But he couldn't. Because Quaxo - _his Quaxo_ \- he wasn't here right now. What he had was a scared and confused kitten who believed that the entire world had turned against him.

_But not me, sparkles. I promise._

Things were flying. The rain kept pouring. Quaxo...he changed. Tugger couldn't quite tell exactly by what - was his tail shorter? His paws...were they all black?

His eyes...they were red. Crimson. He had seen those eyes before...somewhere.

Tugger tried to move but found that he couldn't. It was the eyes. He couldn't...he _couldn't_ look away. He couldn't move or talk...as though something – _someone_ – was holding him in place.

" _Quaxo_..."

He tried again but nothing came out.

Things were flying - _floating_? - covered in what looked like glitter, whipping around with incredible speed. And the worst part? _Quaxo didn't even know he was doing it._

He stood fixed against the wall of the den, still rambling about something - _shaking_ \- so far removed from what was happening in front of him. He needed contact. He needed to be touched.

_He needs me._

_He needs..._

"Quaxo, that is ENOUGH!"

The shout stung his ears. The atmosphere changed almost immediately as everything clattered on the floor of his den. Whatever spell Quaxo had over him broke. Tugger swiveled around and... _oh._

How long had Jenny been here?

The tabby queen was drenched and she was _angry_.

"Nononononono..." Quaxo wailed, tears in his eyes. "Tugger I'm so so sorry, I didn't...I..."

_Huh?_

Everything started to go blurry. Tugger felt...wet? Sticky? Warm...definitely that.

"Tugger," Jenny said urgently. "Don't move, let me..."

He didn't make out the rest. Black spots were dancing around his vision. Colors were melting into each other. He wobbled.

More words were being spoken...unintelligible.

" _Tugger please I'm so sorry,"_

" _Quaxo, you need to let go of him..."_

" _I...I can't...I..."_

Tugger made the mistake of looking down.

 _Oh_.

He was bleeding. That's why they both sounded so concerned. He was bleeding quite a lot, actually. Something must have nicked him in the side. One of those porcelain teacup shards, perhaps?

He wobbled again.

His vision started going black around the edges.

" _Tugger, don't..."_

" _...sit..."_

" _...let me..."_

" _...sorry..."_

"I'm _fine_ ," he said, turning to face Jenny. Or at least, turning to face where he thought Jenny was standing. "Honestly, it's _not_ a big deal. I feel fine."

He fainted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Checks notes*
> 
> *Sees I haven't beaten up Tugger since chapter 3*
> 
> _It's time, boys and girls._


	22. Demeter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tugger and Quaxo continue to have a pretty awful day, but with added glitter. 
> 
> feat. Jemima

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: this chapter contains implied dubcon between two characters. This is relegated to just the italicized portions for those who would prefer to skip it.
> 
> Also, if there is anyone out there who has read Erin Hunter's "Warrior Cats" series, than the different herbs/roots in this chapter will probably look very familiar.

"What about this one?"

Jemima narrowed her eyes, tilting her head to sniff at the tall-stemmed thistle Demeter held in her paw.

"Comfrey?"

" _Well_...you're close."

"But not right."

Demeter smiled, shaking her head. "Remember, you can distinguish comfrey by the shape of their flowers."

"They are bell shaped, right?"

"That _'s_ correct."

Jemima sighed, looking dejectedly at her paws. "I'm going to end up poising someone, aren't I?"

"With burdock? Probably not. Might give you a stomachache though."

The red kitten frowned, grabbing the root from Demeter. "I _knew_ it was burdock," she muttered after a second of intense staring. "The leaves...why did I forget about the leaves?"

"It _okay_ ," Demeter cut in gently. "It will take some time to memorize them. Next question - what is burdock used for?"

Jemima grinned, looking back up. "Easy. Rat bites. And...well...I guess it doesn't _have_ to be rat bites." Noting Demeter's raised eyebrow she continued, "it can also be used as a numbing agent when chewed into a pulp. Infected paws and all that."

"And sores, don't forget," Demeter added, placing the root back in Jenny's drawer. "Training season is going to be fun next spring."

And by fun she meant not fun at all. Skinned knees, bruised legs and bleeding paw pads...learning how to defend yourself in battle was an arduous task, both for those on the receiving end of the kicks and punches as well as those tasked with patching them up later.

Demeter scanned Jenny's drawer of medicinal supplies - winter wasn't an ideal time when one wanted to restock. Snow does not a good crop season make and they would have to deal with their limited supplies until the ground thaws. Hopefully there wouldn't be too many injuries until then, but that wouldn't stop the colds and chest infections that spread with ease in this type of weather.

Demeter could hear Jemima shuffling behind her, probably preparing for her to continue picking at her brain. She was happy that her littlest sister was expressing interest in becoming the next tribe healer. Jenny - _bless her heart_ \- wasn't getting any younger, and if something bad were to happen to her with no replacement in tow...well, the Jellicles wouldn't be in good shape. Of course, Demeter was mostly trained herself - but after... _things_...life events she didn't dare speak of, she found she couldn't quite stomach the scent of blood in a way that would be conductive to full time healer status.

After a couple of moments, she scooped up a paw-full of leaves and turned back around to face her sister. The sheer look of determination on Jemima's face warmed her heart. She _would_ make a great healer one day, Demeter was sure. Jenny thought so too, though was adamant that Demeter help with Jemima's training, lest she forget all that she once knew as time passed.

"Those are borage leaves," she said after a moment of rather intense concentration. "Easily distinguished by its blue or pink star shaped petals."

"Good. What are they used for?"

Jemima drew in a breath, eyebrows furrowed.

_She knows this. I know she knows this._

This certainly wasn't the first time they have gone over the different leaves and roots.

"...fevers?" she finally answered, sounding less confident than before.

"They _could_ be used to help bring down fevers, that's true," Demeter replied, giving one of the leaves over to her sister to familiarize her with the hairy exterior. "Though they're most commonly used by nursing queens to help them produce more milk."

Jemima pawed at the leaf. "Did mother use this with me?" she asked.

"Most nursing queens use them, our mother included." Demeter paused, taking a small bite out of one of the smaller leaves. "Not bad."

Jemima glanced up, quirking an eyebrow.

"I don't suppose we'll be needing borage any time soon, would we?"

It was an innocent question, really. Jemima was the youngest in the clan, with no new kits in sight. It was only natural for her to question when they may see some new ones.

"Not now," Demeter said with a shake of her head. "Winter is a dangerous time for newborns."

"Victoria and Quaxo were born in the winter, weren't they?"

_Well...wasn't expecting that._

Demeter hesitated, racking her brain for an inconspicuous answer. "Well, Victoria wasn't tribe born and Quaxo...he was born under... _extenuating_ circumstances."

"What does that mean?"

"It means most kits are born in the springtime. That's how it _used_ to be done, at least."

_...until Tugger messed it up._

She wasn't going to say _that_ part out loud.

Grizabella's pregnancy certainly wasn't expected, given her growing distance in tribe affairs. Nobody knew how much time the glamor cat spent away from her mate, and no one dared ask. That didn't stop the rumors from spreading, however. Demeter was still in training when he was born, nervous beyond belief - he was going to be the first kit she helped deliver. In fact, Tugger was the first kit born inside the Jellicle tribe since Bomba and herself over two years previous. Jenny had long since broken up with Bustopher and Skimble had no particular interest in queens - though that didn't stop him from taking in Jerrie and Teazer the moment he spotted the two of them abandoned on the railroad tracks. Jellylorum tried for more kittens - _several times_ \- but after her first litter, bringing another pregnancy to term was fraught with difficulties. It was nothing short of a miracle that Jemima and the rest of her litter were even able to be conceived.

So _yes_ , a new litter in the tribe was practically an event. Especially given Grizabella's status as mate to the Jellicle leader. Of course, when the kitten came out looking like neither of his parents - _or his brother, for that matter_ \- the rumors continued with even more frequency. Grizabella stuck around just long enough for her son to be weaned and hadn't been back since. Not that anyone would welcome her back. But _still_...to abandon a kitten so young...

"Demeter?" Jemima asked softly, shaking her from her reverie. "Where'd you go?"

_Always a perceptive one, wasn't she?_

How very un-kitten like. But then again, Jemima had always been a strange one.

"Nothing, honey," she murmured in return, returning the borage leaves back to the drawer. Jenny didn't keep much in stock - not that there was a _need_ at the moment. There weren't any expecting queens on the horizon, she was sure to the disappointment of the tribe's elders. Demeter could feel the eyes on her - _the whispers, the rumors_ \- it was...stifling.

She _loved_ kittens.

Demeter let herself imagine sometimes. To dream. She wondered what her kittens might look like - maybe some combination of her coloring and Munkustrap's features... _yes_ , she loved to dream.

But that's all it was, wasn't it?

_Dreams._

Nothing more.

She'll cry sometimes, when she thinks Munk can't hear her. She thinks of _him._ Of everything that he has taken from her. And then she pushes it away and continues on like they tell her to do.

It's all she knows how to do.

She squeezes her eyes shut. She exhales slowly. She closes the drawer.

"I think we're done for today, Jem," she murmurs, hoping that her newest existential crisis wasn't noticeable on her face.

She doubted it.

Jemima nods, nuzzling the larger queen's shoulder. "Thank you for getting me out of dance practice."

Ah. Mother _was_ teaching the Jellicle Songs this year, wasn't she?

If the idea of Jellylorum trying to teach Pouncival or Tumblebrutus the proper dance steps wasn't so funny, Demeter would almost feel bad for her.

_Almost._

"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure of that."

They turned around to find Jenny re-entering the den, carrying with her some variation of leaves and roots.

"Find anything of use?"

"If by ' _of use'_ you mean ' _may go well with a salad_ ' then sure," the tabby queen grumbled.

" _What's a salad?"_ Jemima whispered as Demeter tried to suppress a grin.

"...found some chervil," Jenny continued. "And some dock leaves - everlasting knows we don't need anymore of _that_." She sighed, rubbing at her temples. "Let's just hope nobody decides to start playing with knives or breaking bones for the next couple of months and we should be okay."

Demeter raised an eyebrow.

"You trust the tribe to be careful?"

"I trust them to start testing the limits of my patience." She stuffed the leaves into the bottom drawer and turned to address Jemima. "You sure you want to get into this business?"

"Oh, _absolutely_." Jemima was practically beaming.

Jenny rolled her eyes. "Mhmm. Those big eyes of yours aren't going to get you out of dance practice, young queen. Off you get."

" _Must_ I, Jenny?..."

"Of course you must, I don't want to be on the receiving end of your mother's complaints when you go to the ball without the choreography memorized."

"But _Quaxo_ doesn't have to go..."

Jenny exchanged a glance with Demeter, who tried to look interested in organizing the herb drawer instead of this conversation.

"We're not discussing Quaxo," Jenny said slowly. "This is about you..."

"Is he sick?" Jemima cut in softly. "Vicky and Electra have been worried. He's been teaching her how to read, you know..."

More silence.

Demeter knew Quaxo loved dancing. But the dangers...the little tux was having such a difficult time of late in controlling his magic. The tribe - _or most of them, at least_ \- were still in the dark about him having powers at all, making his situation even more precarious. Demeter agreed with Munk initially about hiding Quaxo's abilities (for his safety) but magic was a difficult beast to control.

No - magic _hated_ being contained. And that's exactly what they were forcing Quaxo to do.

" _He is sick,"_ she wanted to tell Jemima. _"We are the ones who are making him sick."_

Macavity had used his magic to strike down fellow Jellicles, magic that was once awed now turned to fear...and later, resentment. Magic was dangerous, they now said. It was _evil._

Magic _kills_.

 _They won't accept him_. _Not after what Macavity did._

Until Quaxo could control it better, it was best to be kept a secret.

 _But he loves to dance_...

It felt like someone had grabbed at her heart and squeezed.

"...maybe he can just dance only once a week instead..."

Demeter blinked, focusing back on the conversation.

"Jemima, honestly...we can discuss this later, okay? Why don't you let me escort you back to the nursery."

" _Fine_..."

Has the air gotten heavier since Jenny had returned? Demeter padded to the entrance of the den, observing the surroundings. The sky had shifted from blue to grey, the air felt... _weighted_. Stuffy. It was going to rain.

"I don't think Jem's going to dance practice," she called out behind her as the first drops of rain began to hit the ground.

Jenny frowned, padding up beside her. "Strange," she murmured, sticking her paw out to catch some of the droplets. "It was sunny only a couple of moments ago."

"Does this mean I can stay here?" Jemima piped up.

A flash of lightning burst through the sky. The rain continued to fall, faster and harder than before.

"Maybe it's one of those...what are they called? Pulse storms?" Demeter suggested.

"In the wintertime? Unlikely."

"Well, it's not quite winter, yet..."

Another flash of lightning. Demeter unconsciously took a step backwards.

"Is it just me," Jemima asked, "or was that lightning blue?"

_Oh no..._

Another strike.

"It's...not just you," Demeter murmured, looking towards Jenny. There was something in the tabby queen's eyes...fear, perhaps? No, something else. _Pain_.

"Jenny, you don't think..." Demeter trailed off, trying to control her breathing. "That he's..."

"Who else would it be?"

Thunder boomed. The rain...it was incredibly loud. So, _so_ loud.

" _I can control the weather, you know."_

_Demeter raised an eyebrow._

" _How?"_

_Mac smiled, waving his paw about. "Rain. Lightning. Basic stuff."_

" _You can create lightning?"_

" _If I'm mad enough. Takes a lot of energy."_

" _If you're...mad?"_

" _Yeah." He moved in closer, his paw hovering over hers. "I figured out that my powers work better in stronger emotional states. You know, like anger or..."_

_He leans in, face almost touching hers._

" _...craving..."_

" _But isn't that dangerous," she sputters, scooting back. "Lightning? Can't you hurt someone?"_

_He frowns, drawing his paw away._

" _Good," he mutters, staring out in front of him. "Now they'll know not to mess with me."_

" _Who's going to mess with you, Mac?"_

"Demeter?" Jenny's voice jolts her from the memory. "I'm going out." She blinks as the implication of the tabby queen's words seeped through her brain.

"Wait..." she started. "Jenny, that's not..."

"What's going on?" Jemima asked, gaze fluctuating between the two adults.

"...he isn't able to control..."

"That's my _son_ out there," Jenny interrupted sternly, not breaking her gaze. "I need to make sure he is safe."

"I _know_ that, just..."

Was her voice shaking?

"...be careful, _please_ Jenny. He wouldn't hurt you on purpose."

"You don't think I know that? This is... _everlasting_ \- I _told_ him this is what would happen...not letting him use his..."

She cuts off, glancing towards Jemima. The red kitten was sitting wide eyed on the floor, shaking slightly.

"Watch her. Whatever happens, don't leave the den."

"I...think he's in Tugger's den. That's what Munk said this morning."

Munk. She could really use him right now. Her mate left late this morning to visit his human girl, who was home from university. He said he'd be back later this evening, but that wasn't helping with the situation now.

Jenny nods.

"I mean it, dear. _Don't_ leave the den."

Demeter wanted to protest, but didn't have the chance before Jenny charged through the door.

_Great._

She had seen firsthand the danger of an out-of-control magician, it wasn't pretty. She wanted to know what it was that set Quaxo off, the poor kitten was having such a hard time lately. Depriving him of dance - _the one thing that made him happ_ y...

She wasn't there for the fire. But she _was_ there to deal with Plato's singed tail and and the resulting coughing fits from some very irritable kittens. She remembers the look on Quaxo's face - _haunted_. He didn't dance anymore. He didn't _want_ to.

And it just went downhill from there.

She sighed, pulling Jemima over to her. "Why don't we continue learning the different herbs, alright?"

"Why did Jenny leave?"

"I'll explain later."

"But..."

" _I'll explain later_ ," she repeated, hoping her tone was enough to halt any further questions.

It was, though Jemima seemed clearly unhappy.

Demeter wasn't sure how long it took before the rain began to lessen and eventually stop. What worried her was how long Jenny was taking. Did she find Quaxo? Was he hurt? Did he hurt anybody? Did the tribe find out...

"Horsetail," Jemima said tonelessly, eying the bristly stemmed plant Demeter held out in front of her. "You chew it into a poultice. Treats infections and stops bleeding."

"Good."

"What's taking Jenny so long?"

"Jem, I told you to..."

"Is Quaxo in trouble?"

_Yes? No? Maybe?_

"I..." Demeter sighed, placing down the horsetail. "I don't know, honey. I wish I did, but I don't."

Jemima sniffled, coming in close. "But we can fix it, right?"

_Bless the optimism of kittens._

How can one 'fix' magic? Can magic ever be fixed? Magic was something than no one - _not even Macavity_ \- was able to explain, let alone control. Magic...that's what drove him insane in the end. Would Quaxo fall into the same fate? Just the thought sent a shiver up her spine.

"I don't know," she said again, eyes fixed out in front of her. "I hope so, Jem." She turned around to grab whatever was left in the herb drawer, but was interrupted by the sound of paws splashing into puddles and the door slamming open.

" _I told you, I can wal-"_

" _Is this what you call walking?"_

" _Okay, mostly walk..."_

Jenny continued - _completely drenched_ \- with a perturbed Tugger leaning heavily against her. Which... _fine_ , she had seen some weird things before. But what _wasn't_ fine was the bloody red streaks running down the Maine-Coon's legs onto the floor.

Demeter jumped up and helped stabilize Tugger on his other size, making their way - _slowly, mind you_ \- onto one of the medical beds.

"What happened?"

"Oh, you know..." his chuckle ended with a wince in pain as he grabbed at his side. "...don't play with sharp objects."

" _Hi_ , Tugger," Jemima said shyly, dreamy smile plastered all over her face.

"And how are you, darling?" he reached out, batting the red kitten's chin. Jemima giggled, looking ready to faint.

"Must you tease them?" Demeter asked, rolling her eyes while she held a piece of gauze over the wound.

"Have you ever heard of the _Scorpion and the Frog_?"

"You're exasperating."

" _Merci_."

Jenny came back over, carrying with her a needle, some thread, and what looked to be antiseptic solution.

"This is the second time this year I've had to stitch you up, young tom," she said sternly.

"Honestly, Jenny, I'm _fine_..."

"Fine cats don't faint..."

"...a momentary lapse of concentration, I assure you..."

"Is he really fine?" Jemima cut in, glancing worriedly at her idol.

"He _will_ be. Luckily he wasn't nicked anywhere vital."

"But there's so much blood..."

"As what tends to happen when the skin gets punctured. Here..." Jenny reached around for the gauze, placing it in Jemima's paws. "I trust you remember how to wrap up wounds after they've been stitched?"

"Y-yes Jenny..."

"Good. This will be good practice for you."

Tugger groaned, shifting uncomfortably on the bed. "So I'm the guinea pig, huh? Sounds about right..."

"Stop being overdramatic and sit still," Jenny said firmly. "Dem, can you grab the catnip for me?"

"The good stuff, Jenny?" she said with a smirk, noting how Tugger seemed to lighten up considerably after hearing those words.

"Yes," she replied, looking back down at the injured Maine Coon. "The good stuff. We don't have any sedatives left in stock, so we will work with what we have."

Demeter nodded, watching Tugger sniff at the herb, a lazy smile soon etched across his features.

"How are you feeling?" Jenny asked, grabbing for the needle and thread.

"Hmmm? Wonderful," he slurred. "Brilliant."

Jenny sighed, shaking her head. "I have a feeling this isn't the first time he has taken this stuff. Please put it back for me, Dem."

"Jenny?" Jemima piped up. "What about Quaxo?"

"What _about_ Quaxo?"

"He's..." the red kitten paused, eyebrows furrowed. "He wasn't here a second ago, but he's here now. How did he..."

"Don't bother yourself with it at the moment, Jemima. Let's focus on Tugger."

Demeter frowned, walking back towards the medical bed. Jemima was...well, she wasn't _wrong_. A small tuxedo cat that definitely - _probably?_ \- wasn't there before now lay on the bed, clutching Tugger's leg like a lifeline. He was covered in blood, and didn't look like he was going to let go any time soon. That wasn't the only odd thing, however.

"His _paws_ , Jenny," Demeter murmured, eyes fixed on the little tux. "I don't remember him having all black paws..."

"And his fur is sparkling!" Jemima added. "Did he roll around in glitter?"

"Ladies!" Jenny hissed. "We will discuss him later. Now is _not_ the time."

"Should...I get him off Tugger's leg?" Demeter asked worriedly. Quaxo seemed...she wasn't sure. Blank. Expressionless. Detached. As if he didn't know - _or didn't care_ \- what was going on.

_Was he the one to injure Tugger?_

"Not unless you want to be electrocuted. Leave him for now, he won't be impeding the surgery. Jemima dear? Come in close and watch how to stitch. You will need to know how to do this." Shooting one last glance at Quaxo, Jemima then went over to stand next to Jenny.

Demeter always hated the stitching. Maybe it was a sign that this wasn't the business she wanted to get into. Herbs, roots, minor infirmities? Fine. But blood...gashes...the running of claws through fur and skin...

She shuddered, trying to suppress the dry heaves. One needed to have a much stronger constitution to deal these types of injuries. She left the den while Jenny and Jemima worked on Tugger, trying to clear her head. The junkyard was a mess, with various pieces of furniture and trash toppled over and strewn on the ground. Her mother was already back out, instructing the remaining kittens to help clean.

" _But why is this our job?"_ she heard Pouncival whine.

" _Shut up or she's gonna make us do more sprints,"_ Tumble hissed in return.

" _Can both of you shut up!"_

" _No one asked you, Cettie..."_

" _...you're all gonna get us in trouble..."_

" _Whatever happens it's Pounce's fault..."_

" _Hey that's not fair!"_

" _Life isn't fair..."_

Demeter missed kitten-hood. She truly did. Alonzo and Admetus's arguments were always fun to watch, as were the fallouts when their mother caught them doing something they shouldn't. She just wished someone would have warned her just how hard adulthood was going to be.

#

It was late afternoon by the time she returned to Jenny's den. The stench of blood still hit her full force when she entered, and it was clear this entire place was going to need a thorough scrubbing to wash it off the bed and floor. Jemima was dozing in the corner while Jenny filed around in one of her cabinets.

"Did it go alright?" she asked, observing Tugger's still form.

"Well he passed out about ten minutes in, which made my life a bit easier."

Jenny sounded...tired. She _looked_ tired. "He'll be fine," she continued. "Any scarring should be covered up by his fur regardless."

"What about Quaxo?"

The tabby queen sighed, rubbing at her eyes.

"He's the one who...he couldn't control it. His magic. I think the realization that he hurt Tugger..." she trailed off, casting a glance towards Quaxo. He hadn't moved the entire time, still clutching onto Tugger's leg and staring off into oblivion. "He's just shut down," she continued, lowering her voice. "He's not...he's not _here_ , do you understand?"

_Then where is he?_

She didn't dare ask. She recognized that look in his eyes, for she wore the same one all that time ago. Defeat. Loss.

Exhaustion.

She could feel her chest tightening. See, that was the difference between Quaxo and Macavity. Mac relished in pain, in blood and suffering.

" _They deserved it,"_ he would tell her. _"Why give me this power if they didn't want me to defend myself with it?"_

She took a step towards the adolescent tux.

"Why are his paws like that, Jenny?"

"I don't know. This is out of my realm of expertise."

Quaxo continued to stare blankly, as though he couldn't - _or chose not to_ \- hear the conversation happening in front of him.

"I'm going outside to wash up," Jenny said from behind her. "Maybe you can get him washed as well. He may be more willing to talk to you than his mother."

Demeter nodded, slowly approaching the young tux.

"You're...a bit of a mess, Quaxo," she said softly. His fur was tangled, covered in dried blood. "Will you let me clean you?"

Nothing. No words, no movement. No indication of life. Just...emptiness.

She sighed, reaching out her paw just to get immediately zapped.

_Rude._

"Quaxo, I know it's difficult right now, but you _need_ to be cleaned. You don't want to walk around with blood all over you, right?"

Still...nothing. She could hear movement from the other end of the room.

"It won't work," Jemima mumbled into her blanket.

"What?"

The red kitten yawned, raising her head. "It's not Quaxo."

Demeter raised an eyebrow. "I'm still lost, Jem."

"You want to talk to Quaxo, but Quaxo isn't here. That's why he's not listening to you."

_Have I gone insane?_

She looked back towards the tux. No, that was _definitely_ Quaxo. Well, he _looked_ like Quaxo. Except for the paws, and the tail...and the fur. He really did look like he rolled around in a box of glitter. But everything else was the same.

"What do you mean, Jem?" she asked again, just to be met with silence. Her little sister had fallen back asleep, curled up in a light orange blanket that Jenny kept around for her younger patients.

_Great._

Jemima was definitely a strange one.

_So what now?_

She reached out again, though not quite far enough to touch his fur. Time for a different strategy. "Tugger will be okay, you know," she said softly, looking him in the eyes. "I promise. He's just sleeping now, and in a couple of hours he'll be upright and obnoxious as always."

She could see Quaxo trembling. "This _isn't_ your fault," she continued. "You didn't do anything that can't be fixed, do you understand?" She reached out just a bit further, making contact with his fur. She wasn't zapped this time around. "Can I clean you now?" she asked. Quaxo gave her no response, continuing to stare blankly at the wall.

_Good enough._

She slowly detached the adolescent tux from Tugger's leg, leading him to a different bed. She could see out of the corner of her eye Jenny re-entering the den, though the tabby queen didn't remark on how Demeter was able to get Quaxo to comply. She started to lick the blood off the young tux's fur, grimacing at the taste.

She _hated_ blood.

It took a couple of minutes for her to get most of the blood off - _Quaxo remaining eerily silent_ \- and...

_Strange._

He had three white paws again. And his tail was much longer than before. She turned towards Jenny who was knitting in the corner, and the tabby queen gave her a raised eyebrow at Quaxo's transformation but nothing else. A couple of minutes passed - _achingly slow_ \- and she could see Tugger moving around on the bed, struggling to get comfortable.

"Isn't it too soon for the catnip to wear off?" she asked, watching the Maine Coon's face contort with pain.

"Yes," Jenny said softly. "There's not much else we can do at the moment, dear. He'll just have to ride it out."

Demeter could see Quaxo's head turn towards Tugger, an indication that there was still life kicking around in that tiny body of his. He then slipped through her paws and made his way towards Tugger's bed, curling around the larger tom with his head resting against his chest. It took a minute, maybe slightly longer, before Tugger's convulsive movements began to cease - the rise and fall of his chest matching Quaxo's as their breaths echoed each other's. In perfect sync.

And then, quiet.

"How strange," Jenny murmured from the corner.

"Strange is...certainly one way to put it," Demeter added on, still trying to process what exactly just happened.

Jenny put her needles down, making her way across the room. She spent a couple of moments observing the two toms, feeling Tugger's pulse - then Quaxo's - before standing next to Demeter.

"They're both asleep."

"Did Quaxo use any magic on him?"

Jenny shrugged. "I don't know," she said, sounding uncharacteristically subdued. "I honestly think Tugger just sleeps better when he's next to him."

"Oh?"

Munk had told her of his difficulties in getting Quaxo to sleep in the nursery. And of his frequent attempts at escaping. Of course, it never occurred to her that he would be seeking refuge with _Tugger_ of all cats. Tugger, who didn't seem keen on letting anyone get remotely close enough to him to allow for sleepovers - unless it was for... _physical_ pursuits...of course.

"I _worr_ y about him," Jenny said quietly.

"Quaxo?"

Something almost akin to a smile formed on her face. "Oh, I worry about Quaxo all the time. In this case, I mean Tugger."

"How so?"

"Ever since kit hood, he always seemed...so _withdrawn_ \- there were no other kits for the longest time to keep him company. I tried mothering him, I _really_ did. I...think Grizabella's...departure...impacted him more than he would have liked to let on."

Demeter was honestly surprised Jenny had brought up Grizabella's name at all. It almost seemed as though that word was outlawed in the tribe.

"I was wrong, you know," she continued.

"Wrong _how_ , Jenny?"

The older queen sighed, crossing her arms.

"I thought that Quaxo's relationship with him... _well_ , I thought it to be rather one-sided, you see. He hasn't shown any interest in forming a relationship with anyone, let alone someone with the...shall we say... _issues_ that Quaxo has." She reached under the bed for a blanket - one of those soft ones that sells for quite an exorbitant amount of money - and draped it over the two toms. Quaxo had somehow managed to burrow himself in Tugger's mane, much to Demeter's amusement.

"I was wrong," Jenny repeated softly. "I think that Tugger depends on Quaxo as much as Quaxo depends on him." She could see Tugger unconsciously drape his arm over the young tux, as if to protect him from the outside elements. "And I doubt that there's a single thing in the world Tugger _wouldn't_ do for him."

"Even if it kills him," Demeter whispered, mostly to herself.

" _I can give you everything," Mac said, eyes locked on her own._

" _What would I do with everything?"_

_He smirks, pulling her closer._

" _Alright - I 'will' give you everything. All you need to do is ask."_

" _Mac..."_

" _Why not give us a try, Dem? What do you have to lose?"_

_His eyes...they were mesmerizing. Magnetic. She...couldn't pull away. She couldn't stop him - running his claws through her fur, around her waist - kissing her neck, her mouth..._

_She didn't pull away._

_She didn't try._

"Here." Jenny pulled out another blanket. "Try and get some sleep."

"I...don't think I will get much, Jenny," she whispered, noting how hoarse she sounded.

Jenny smiled warmly, squeezing her shoulder. "Just _try._ All crises have been averted,” she glanced at Quaxo,"....for _now_ , at least."

Demeter nodded, feeling too weak to argue. There was so much left to deal with. Quaxo - what were they going to do about him? She laid her head down, trying to relax her muscles, to ignore the stench of blood. When Munk came back later this evening, they would have to figure out something. _Anything_ \- for Quaxo's sake.

...it was going to be a long night.


	23. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Maine Coon meets a tux. It goes badly.
> 
> (until it doesn't)

**[ 10 Months Ago ]**

" _Tugger? Tugger...Tugger, wake up! Tugger, c'mon..."_

_He could feel paws pressing against him, trying - and succeeding - in jolting him back into consciousness._

" _Tugger, wake up!"_

_The voice was loud and shrill, leaving his ears ringing. It had to be coming from Plato - the other kittens were just learning to talk and not nearly as clamorous (yet). Tugger groaned at the continued screeching and physical contact (he was not a cuddler of any sort, thank you very much), and tried moving over to another unoccupied area of the nursery. His efforts, however, seemed to be in vain._

" _It's important!" Plato continued to whine, leaving Tugger with little hope of being able to go back to sleep._

_He sighed, opening up his eyes and slowly making his way to his paws. The brightness made him dizzy - the sun's position suggested that it was at least noon, probably even later. Jelly had more or less given up on trying to force him into a consistent sleep schedule, though Plato - and presumably the newest brood - wouldn't have any such luck._

" _What is it, then?" he mumbled, rubbing at his tired eyes and trying to stifle a yawn._

" _Munkustrap and Alonzo found a kit this morning!" he exclaimed, practically vibrating on the floor._

' _No, it was definitely to early for this.'_

" _So Teazer heard it from Jerrie," Plato continued, "...who was listening in on a conversation between Skimbleshanks and Demeter..."_

" _Plato..." Tugger growled, feeling a headache already forming._

" _...and apparently she was in Jenny's den with the kit and Munkustrap was there too and..."_

" _What kit?"_

_Plato stopped, letting out a huff of annoyance. "Weren't you listening? Munkustrap and Alonzo found him on patrol this morning."_

" _What like, in a trash can?"_

" _I dunno. But it looks like the nursery is going to be a bit more cramped now."_

_Tugger gritted his teeth, suddenly feeling much more awake. "You said it was in Jenny's den?"_

_Plato frowned at his inquiry. "Yeah..."_

_Tugger then stood up fully, starting towards the nursery's exit. He could already hear the squealing of kittens outside, a source of constant aggravation for one who relied on uninterrupted slumber to function._

" _Thanks for the info," he said gruffly as he made his way past the ginger tom-kit and left the den. The cold air assaulted him with every step, hard snow and dead leaves crunched under his paws as the wind hit his face. Tugger was not fond of the winter season, though had to admit his abundance of fur gave him an advantage against such frigid conditions compared to others. The junkyard was practically a graveyard during this time, with cats older and wiser than him deciding to hunker down with their humans until the weather became more agreeable._

_Tugger finally made it to Jenny's den, the smell of herbs hitting him in full force. He never particularly liked going in here, too strongly associating it with sickness and injuries. There was also that time he stepped on one of her wayward beetles (yes it was an accident) and was sure Jenny was giving him the stink-eye ever since._

_The den looked mostly the same as the last time he entered, but now Tugger had the displeasure of coming face to face with his brother and Demeter, along with the unresolved sexual tension that arose whenever the two of them were alone in a room together._

" _Isn't it a bit early for you?" Munk asked dryly, trying to flatten a patch of fur on his chest that was sticking out from sleep._

" _Where's the kit?"_

_Munk briefly shared a glance with Demeter, who looked like she wanted to leave the den if not for the fact that Tugger was blocking the doorway._

_A moment passed - then another - before Munk finally shifted over to reveal a tiny black fuzzball glommed onto his tail. The thing was so...small - a speck, if barely - especially when curled up like that._

" _You rescued a rat?" Tugger asked incredulously, crossing his arms._

_Munk sighed, rising on two legs. "Don't be like this, Tugger."_

" _Be like what?"_

" _You know what."_

" _I'm just here to see if Plato was telling the truth," he said. The kit whined in its sleep, tightening its grip on Munk's tail. "So are you going to return it to its parents?"_

" _Quaxo is a 'he' Tugger," Demeter said sternly from the corner of the room. "Don't call him an 'it'. It's dehumanizing."_

" _Well then it's a good thing we aren't humans."_

_Demeter rolled her eyes, but failed to respond._

_Tugger turned back towards his brother. "So...parents?"_

" _Doesn't have any. He was abandoned, something I'm sure was already relayed to you by...who was it this time? Jerrie? Plato?"_

" _So...what?" Tugger responded, ignoring Munk's inquiry. "It'll be in the nursery with us then? It's already loud enough..."_

" _You'll survive," Munk cut in icily._

" _Why should I? I'm perfectly old enough to live on my own..."_

" _That isn't for you to decide..."_

" _...I'm practically an adult..."_

" _...will you stop..."_

" _...and I shouldn't have to be subjected to living with loud newborns who..."_

" _ENOUGH," Munk shouted, looking ready to pull his fur out. "You will be staying in the nursery until I decide that you are ready to leave. When you prove that you are mature enough to handle living on your own, then we will discuss you moving out."_

_Tugger felt himself shrinking under his brother's stern gaze. Even though he was a head taller than him, it was clear that Munk was - and would always be - the dominant one in the family. Especially when he was clearly overtired and not in the mood for arguments._

" _You aren't in charge of me," Tugger responded weakly, taking a step back._

" _In the absence of our parents, I..."_

" _Boys!" Demeter interceded, stepping between them. "That's quite enough."_

_Their argument must have woken the kit up, and it was incessantly whining as it squirmed around on the blankets. It was clear that the black fuzzball was having difficulties in self- soothing, its little white paw grabbing futilely at a source of warmth that wasn't there anymore. Demeter's eyes softened at the sound, and she went to pick it up and rest it against her chest._

_Tugger forgot how much Demeter loved kittens, and it surprised him that she hadn't had any of her own by now. The kit - Quaxo, was it? - didn't seem satisfied in Demeter's grasp, blinking open his eyes and reaching towards Munk instead._

_It was amazing how quickly his brother's gaze shifted from 'I'm about to kill you' to 'I will protect you with my life,' once it settled on the distraught kitten. It also served as a reminder of how suitable Munk was for the position of protector, dealing with the kit's squealing and slobber with the patience of a saint. Tugger was not overly fond of kittens (though had to admit he was still much a kitten himself), and just the thought of another screaming lump of fur in the nursery made him cringe. He had spent over half of his life alone - no mother, mostly no father, and especially no kittens._

_Or friends, he thought. Plato and the chaos twins were the closest he was going to get. Looking at his brother now - the kit had settled down against his chest and fell back asleep - it...stung. He remembered when Munk used to hold him like that, when he would sleep next to him at night and sing to him when he was distraught._

_Jealously prickled inside of him, no matter how hard he tried to suppress it. It wasn't a good feeling, darkness and anger that had rooted itself in his core and started to fester._

" _I think he's attached to you, Munk," Demeter teased softly, longing evident in her gaze._

" _So is he yours now?" Tugger blurted out before he was able to stop himself._

_Munk's glare cut through the Maine Coon like a knife. Tugger swallowed thickly, contemplating an escape route from the den in case the claws came out._

" _He'll be staying with Jenny," he said flatly, eyes narrowed._

" _Wait...you mean he's not going to be in the nursery?"_

" _Not for now."_

_Tugger could practically feel the anger that had gripped at his heart - pounding in his chest - traveling up his throat until exploding from his mouth. "How is that fair?" he hissed. "So I have to stay in the nursery and that...that...thing doesn't..."_

" _Tugger I swear to the everlasting cat if you call Quaxo an 'it' or a 'thing' again then you'll be staying in there until your fur goes grey," Munk growled in return._

" _But..."_

" _Do you realize that these kits you claim to hate are closer in age to you than the adults you are trying to emulate? You have a roof over your head, food readily available and a family that cares about your well-being. You have everything you could possibly need and yet you are never satisfied. You will always find something - anything - to complain about. I've just about had enough!"_

_Munk paused, catching his breath. A pregnant pause filled the room, heavy with anger and uncertainly. After a couple of moments, Munk sighed, readjusting the kit on his shoulder. "Enjoy your kitten-hood while it lasts," he finally said, voice unnaturally subdued. "It doesn't get any easier from here."_

" _You won't even let me try, Munk," Tugger insisted. "Living on my own..."_

" _Then prove it to me. Prove to me that you can. Fix the attitude. Make some friends."_

" _What friends?"_

_Munk looked down at the black fuzzball on his shoulder. "I hope that maybe one day you and Quaxo could be friends."_

" _He can't even talk yet! He can't...he's too small, Munk..."_

" _He won't always be like that," the protector responded, eyes firmly locked on Tugger's own. "There's only a year separating you both. I just want you to try, Tug."_

" _But why him?"_

_The grey tabby exchanged another glance with Demeter. There was something in his gaze...sympathy was it? Tugger's chest tightened even further. He hated that look. Despised it. It was the only one his tribemates seemed to give him since...since that day. The day his mother decided to stop being a mother. The day that he realized he wasn't important enough for her to stick around._

" _Sometimes..." Munk said slowly, pawing the kit off to Demeter, "...it is easier to be friends with cats that have some shared life experiences."_

_Tugger's heart dropped to his stomach. "You think I should be friends with your plaything because his mother didn't give a shit about him either?" he snarled._

_Munk's eyes widened at his outburst. He opened his mouth, presumably to respond, but Tugger didn't give him the chance. "I don't need you to pity me, Munk," he continued angrily. "I don't need friends, and I especially don't need some kit to share your pity with."_

_He whipped around, stepping through the exit of Jenny's den. Tugger could hear the kit's cries from behind him, and could feel part of his heart breaking at the sound. He didn't like kittens, but he also didn't like upsetting them either. He inhaled slowly - then exhaled - before continuing forward. "Have fun with your rat," he mumbled under his breath._

_He didn't care to look back._

**[ 9 Months Ago ]**

_Tugger forgot how much he liked bouncy balls. His mother had gifted him one when he was little - red and shiny and bounced impossibly high in the air. He treasured the thing greatly, especially as it provided a source of entertainment for the hours and hours he spent alone in the nursery._

_Of course, he bounced it a bit too hard one day and it soon landed somewhere in the tree line outside the fence. He cried for days, begging Munk to help him find it - his favorite toy - to which his brother obliged, though the chances of it resurfacing where slim._

_Or in this case, none._

_The ball Tugger held now was not the one he lost all those months ago. It was a harsh looking blue color, the sun's glare reflecting off of it and hurting his eyes. The weather still sucked, with the snow laying in hard clumps on the ground. It made any form of navigation around the junkyard difficult at best and impossible at worst. At the very least however, the sun decided to make an appearance today, which provided some - if small - level of comfort against the usual harsh conditions._

_He dropped the ball on the ground beneath him and took some satisfaction when it bounced right back in his paw. Tugger had no idea where it came from, swearing it wasn't out here before._

_His argument with Munk still weighed heavily on his mind. Tugger knew that he should be the bigger cat - that he should be the one to go and apologize, that his behavior had been...less than satisfactory of late. But could he blame him? The nursery sucked in every way possible - the kittens wouldn't leave him alone and he wanted to leave the yard without a chaperone (not that it stopped him from sneaking out anyways), but at least his nightly exploits would be much less a pain in the arse to achieve._

_He sighed, continuing to bounce. He knew Munk loved him, and he knew his brother was trying to raise him as best he could under the circumstances. It wasn't fair in a way, the responsibilities that have been placed on him due to the absence of their parents. But that still didn't stop his heart from lurching every time he saw Munk with that tux kit, as though Tugger ceased to exist after that fateful morning. Was he not small enough to protect anymore? Was he not cute enough? Why didn't Munk look at him the same way he looked at the fuzzball?_

' _I'm being ridiculous.'_

_Tugger supposed that if he wanted to be treated like an adult, he would have to start acting like one. And that meant not getting jealous that his brother was spending time with an abandoned kit and not him. The same kit that his brother wanted him to be friends with - to play games with - to pay any level of attention to, as if being abandoned by your mother somehow counted as a personality trait they could bond over._

_Bounce._

_Bounce._

_Bounce._

" _Hey, Tug! Tugger!"_

' _Great.'_

" _What?" he groaned, seeing Plato sprint towards him with incredible speed._

" _Did you see there was a meeting going on?"_

" _There's plenty of meetings."_

" _Yes, but..."_

" _But what?"_

" _Well I heard from Jerrie who heard from George that apparently Alonzo smelled Macavity's scent on the border..." Plato trailed off, breathing heavily._

_To be truthful, Tugger didn't hate Macavity. At least, not initially. Macavity was...well, 'cool'. A cat that always exuded confidence, a cat that all the toms tried to emulate and all the queens salivated over. Of course, having magic also helped build his reputation, and Tugger never understood why Munk had such a problem with the ginger tom._

_Until the murders came and he was banished from the tribe, never to return._

_Maybe he should be worried that 'Lonz smelled Mac's scent, but they didn't actually see him, did they?_

" _I think everyone's freaking out over nothing," he responded simply, dropping the bouncy ball on the ground again._

" _Are you sure?" Plato asked, eyes wide. "I mean...they looked serious..."_

" _Macavity has magic. If he wanted to do something, he would have done it already." Tugger paused. "My brother is just neurotic. Honestly."_

_Plato sighed. "I guess..." he murmured, not looking convinced in the slightest. "Anyways, where'd you get that ball?"_

" _Huh? Oh, this? I dunno. It just appeared out of nowhere."_

_Perhaps that was the wrong thing to say. Plato - always the nervous one - widened his eyes, fear practically radiating off the ginger tom-kit. "Out of nowhere? See...this is a sign!"_

" _Of what?" Tugger groaned, really missing the previous silence._

" _That he's here! Macavity, I mean. Can't he make things disappear with magic? What if he's here now?"_

" _It's a ball, for Heaviside's sake. You are worse than my brother."_

" _But..."_

" _Do you really think Macavity would come here for the sole purpose of mildly inconveniencing us? Don't be stupid."_

" _You're not gonna think I'm stupid when he comes here and starts murdering cats with his magic!" Plato insisted. "Jelly says that magic is super dangerous and..."_

_They were interrupted by the sound of a small thud. Tugger turned around to look for the source of the noise, with his gaze soon landing on a small black fuzzball that was half hidden behind a refrigerator._

" _Isn't that Munkustrap's kit?" Plato whispered. "What's he doing out here?"_

_The tiny thing looked terrified at the sight of him, struggling to its paws and quickly dashing out of sight._

' _Was he listening to us?'_

" _I wonder why he's not in the nursery like Tumble or Pounce," Plato mused. "I mean...I like the space and everything, but still..."_

" _My brother likes to pick favorites," Tugger murmured. He tossed the bouncy ball into the bushes, not feeling much inclined to use it anymore. "Feel free to take my spot."_

_He started back towards the nursery, the image of that frightened kitten's face still etched into his brain._

**[ 8 Months Ago ]**

_Tugger must have been about three months old when, while out hunting with his brother, he spotted a squirrel perched so enticingly on a tree branch. Now Tugger wasn't a stupid kitten by any means, but he was growing quickly and always complained that he wasn't being fed enough. He started to climb the tree - slowly, he didn't want to scare the squirrel away - one paw in front of another until he was within striking distance._

_No, Tugger was not stupid. But he was young and rash and certainly hungry. He pounced, pinning the squirrel beneath his claws and piercing the flesh that he would soon take glee in devouring. What he didn't realize, however, was the shift in the weight distribution of the branch. There was a snapping sound as the branch buckled under his weight and soon enough, Tugger was airborne._

_Perhaps if he had just stayed with Munk, or maybe took a second to listen to what the seniors told him in regards to scaling trees, he wouldn't of found himself in this situation._

_Tugger hit the floor hard, his cry of pain enough to alert Munk and Admetus of his rather unfortunate predicament. After a painful walk home and another hour spent in Jenny's den, he was told of his now sprained ankle (was that really it?) and he would have to spend the next week confined to walking on all fours._

_Which...fine, he wasn't dead or anything._

_(Neither was the squirrel, mind you. Little bastard must have escaped during his impromptu free fall.)_

_But his ankle ached - the pain radiating throughout most of his lower extremities. It was certainly the worst physical suffering that Tugger had ever experienced._

_Until now._

_Pollicles were nasty creatures, violent and territorial. Tugger's side was burning, even with the ointments and creams that Jenny had whipped up for him. It had been two days since the incident - since the large, brown-furred demon raked its claws down his side and nearly killed him._

_There wasn't a single second of the day that Tugger wasn't in pain. He couldn't move much for fear of tearing out his stitches, and was more or less confined to his den for the time being. There was at least one positive to his situation, however, in that he actually had his own den now. After months of pleading and (relative) good behavior, Munk finally agreed to let him leave the nursery. He was now allowed to suffer in silence - blissful, beautiful, silence._

_Mostly._

_Sleep these days was a luxury, even if he was able to escape the confines of the conscious world, Tugger was met with the sight of claws and angry eyes. He would jolt awake - body soaked in sweat regardless of the weather - and felt as though he had just finished a sprint as his chest heaved in the struggle to intake air._

_He kept replaying that night in his head. The darkness, the woods, the snapping of twigs, fear and pain and adrenaline and light..._

_Except it wasn't just light, was it? It was lightning._

_He had only been in his den for a week when Munk saddled him with babysitting duties. The tiny black fuzzball attached itself to his brother's leg and even when removed, refused to talk to his host for hours. And sure, Tugger didn't care much about his situation either - there must have been hundreds of things he would have preferred to do instead of watching over his brother's reclamation project. But he finally got the little tux to talk, and soon enough was convinced to take him out for rice pudding._

_Tugger could still see the lightning strike the pollicle in the side. He could see the furry creature twitch and jolt as the electricity rippled through it. He could see the body slam into the ground next to him, not knowing whether or not his attacker had succumbed to its injuries._

_He could see Quaxo sparkling under the moonlight...right before he collapsed from what must have been exhaustion. Tugger still had trouble comprehending the events that he had just witnessed. How this shy little tux kitten was able to harness that much energy, to sparkle, to...save his life._

_He once called him a rat, didn't he? Guilt seemed to be Tugger's constant companion now. How long had Quaxo known about his magic? How long had he been hiding it for? Had he told anyone else about it? Munk couldn't have known or he wouldn't have left the kit with Tugger in the first place._

_He wondered how lonely the tux must be, capable of so much yet so inhibited by fear...both of the cats around him and perhaps even of himself._

_Tugger's heart hurt._

_Why did he call Quaxo a rat?_

_He sighed, rolling over in his nest in a futile attempt to get comfortable. It was awfully late now, the junkyard quiet as cats shuffled off to their dens to get some sleep. There were very few positions that were suitable to fall asleep in, and he was further limited by his injuries._

_It took a couple of moments before he felt comfortable enough to close his eyes, the sweet release of slumber beckoning him into its clutches..._

" _Tugger?"_

_Was that a voice?_

" _Are you awake?"_

_No, that was definitely a voice. A young voice._

_Fantastic._

_Tugger sighed, propping himself up as best he could without aggravating his injuries. One benefit of having your own den was not having to deal with loud and uncooperative kittens late into the night. Apparently Quaxo didn't get the memo._

_He could hardly see the little tux at this late hour, his fur blending into the dark nighttime sky that hung above them._

" _I'm awake now," he responded tiredly._

_Quaxo inched slowly into the room. "I...couldn't sleep," he murmured, staring at his paws. "I'm scared, Tugger."_

" _Of what?"_

_He sniffled, looking ready to cry. "W-what if they find out? About me...what if they ask how the pollicle died and...and..."_

" _Hey, hey...slow down, tux," Tugger cut in. "I promise, my brother is more concerned with us not being dead than what happened to the pollicle."_

_Another sniffle. Then a pause. Quaxo came further into the den, eyes puffy from a presumed lack of rest. "Are you going to tell them?" he asked softly, voice shaking._

" _They're going to find out eventually..."_

" _Th-they're going to kick me out, aren't they? They're going send me back to the before-time and..."_

" _Quaxo, listen..."_

" _They're gonna think I'm dangerous!" Quaxo cried, almost frantic. "Because Jelly and the other adults don't like magic and they won't like me and...and...I'm not like Macavity…I promise!"_

_The small tux was in full on tears now. Tugger sat up further, wincing at his injuries but ignoring them to the best of his ability._

_He grabbed the hysterical kitten's paws, hooking one of his own under the smaller tom's chin and forcing him to look up. "Hey, sparkles," he started gently. "Breathe for me, okay? Can you do that?"_

_Quaxo sniffled again, then nodded._

" _Okay, good. I haven't told anybody yet, not even my brother."_

" _Y-you haven't?"_

_Tugger shook his head, still holding on to the younger cat's paw. "I won't tell them if you don't want me to. But I wasn't lying when I said that the truth would come out eventually."_

" _Are they going to kick-"_

" _I won't let that happen," Tugger cut in firmly. "You saved my life, Quaxo. You don't think I wouldn't do the same thing for you?"_

" _But...I...I didn't know what I was doing. I mean...with the lightning...it just happened and I don't..." he sputtered, clearly struggling to get the words out through the tears._

" _It doesn't matter, alright? Regardless of how it happened, I wouldn't be here right now if it wasn't for you." Tugger paused, drawing the tux in closer to him. "And c'mon, how many kittens could say that they faced a pollicle and lived?"_

_Quaxo sniffled again, a small smile forming on his face. "Not many, I think," he whispered._

" _See? You're amazing!"_

" _But isn't magic dangerous? Because Macavity..."_

" _Oh for the love of...look, Macavity is gone, alright? And yeah, there's a lot of cats here that don't like magic because of him. But...well..." Tugger trailed off, squeezing Quaxo's paw. Why was he so small? He wondered, ever since that night, if his abandonment may have been due to his magic. If his mother or father thought him to be a danger._

_Grizabella never told anyone why she left. Munk said that she was always unhappy, that it wasn't his fault, no matter how much Tugger thought otherwise. And...it hurt, the feeling of longing towards a cat that would never give him the time of day. He wonders what Quaxo's mother was like. He wonders if she thinks of her child with the same level of disinterest that Grizabella thought of him. He wonders if either of their mothers ever cared about them - the sad and lonely orphans that yearned for the love and acceptance that was never quite in their grasp._

_Great, now was he crying?_

_He should be over this. He was basically an adult now and he had his own den and his own life to live. But seeing Quaxo now in front of him - trembling and teary-eyed - it broke his heart. He was that kitten once, scared and confused and screaming into the void, hoping someone would hear._

" _Magic 'can' be dangerous," he finally said, wiping away an escaped tear. "But it can be beautiful, too."_

" _B-but..."_

" _They're not going to kick you out, sparkles. I won't let them. We'll get through this together."_

" _We?"_

_Of course he caught that._

" _Yeah. I'm the only one who knows about your powers, right?"_

_Quaxo's smile grew. "Does that mean we're friends now? Because friends don't keep secrets from one another."_

_Tugger raised an eyebrow, trying to suppress a chuckle for fear of aggravating his injuries. "I guess we are," he responded lightly._

" _Best friends?"_

" _Sure."_

" _Forever?"_

" _Huh?"_

_Quaxo's smile faltered, if only slightly. "You know...like until we die," he paused, "or something..."_

_Tugger sighed, laying back down. He forgets sometimes, what it was like to be so young. It wasn't like there were any other kits around to base any form of behavior off of. Quaxo's innocence was charming in a way, but sad at the same time. All he wanted was a friend, something Tugger yearned for all that time ago._

_No, he still yearns for some form of companionship, doesn't he? No matter how much he tries to tell himself otherwise._

" _Yeah, tux," he answered. "Best friends forever."_

_Quaxo leans in for a hug - avoiding the stitches, of course - and Tugger doesn't stop him._

" _Can I stay with you tonight?" he asked shyly._

" _Don't you have a den?"_

_He shrugged, averting his gaze. "Mother snores," he responded softly._

_Tugger groaned, laying his head back down. "Fine. But just for tonight."_

" _Can I sleep next -"_

" _No," Tugger interrupted, closing his eyes once more. "I don't do cuddling."_

" _Munkus lets me cuddle."_

" _Then go sleep with him."_

" _He's not here. You are."_

_If Tugger's eyes weren't already closed, he probably would have rolled them. "You want to sleep in my den? You can sleep in the corner."_

" _You're not a very good friend."_

" _I'll work on it. Go to bed," Tugger mumbled in return, starting to drift off._

_And drift off he did - for the first time in days, his dreams didn't taunt him and he slept well into the morning hours. Of course, when he woke up to find a small tuxedo kit pressed firmly against his side, Tugger couldn't help but wonder if his new little friend had anything to do with his ability to get a good night's sleep. Maybe he was willing to admit (only to himself of course) that perhaps he was, in fact, a cuddler after all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tugger: *sees Misto for the first time*
> 
> Tugger: "Thanks, I hate it."


	24. Quaxo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Perks of Being a Wallflower, featuring Quaxo, Victoria, and a night of bad decision-making.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer for depictions of depression and suicidal tendencies.

He woke up in darkness - a cold and empty void of his own making.

U-b-i-q-u-i-t-o-u-s.

I-n-e-s-c-a-p-a-b-l-e.

Nobody else sees it, not Munkus or Jenny or Jelly or mother. Nobody else _feels_ it the way he does - nobody could think to understand...to smother the beast lying dormant inside him, yearning for escape.

It hurts _._

_He_ hurts.

He hurts and he is...being _touched_. Prodded, by soft and d-e-l-i-c-a-t-e paws. Vicky is staring at him with her wide blue eyes, consoling but uneasy. A white blotch surrounded by nothing but black.

" _You were moving a lot,"_ she signs slowly. _"Another bad dream?"_

Quaxo didn't mean to wake her up. To cause problems of any sort, it be a n-u-i-s-a-n-c-e to everyone around him.

But that's what he was, wasn't he?

" _Sorry,"_ he signs back feebly. _"I'll move."_

He found himself sleeping next to Vicky quite often of late. She wasn't fluffy like Tugger, or warm like Munkus, but...he needed the touch. To remind himself that he wasn't _alone_ , floating in some eternal vacuum of his own thoughts.

But she wasn't Tugger. _Nobody_ was Tugger.

(He was bleeding and bleeding and bleeding. It's everywhere. It's on the floor and the bedsheets and the cabinets and his fur. It's sticky and warm and it doesn't come off. He scrubs and scrubs and scrubs and it doesn't come off. It will _never_ come off. They tell him he is clean now; unblemished. But he can still smell it. And it will never come off _._ )

Tugger hates him. He must. Quaxo _knows_ he does. He knows because _he_ was the one to hurt him. Tugger invited him in his den and then he goes and _hurts_ him.

_They all hate you._

_Everyone here._

He could feel the tears bubbling in his eyes, the feeling all too familiar now. Quaxo doesn't know _why_ he cries so often, probably the combination of many different things. Maybe because there is something wrong with him. There has _always_ been something wrong with him.

_Tugger hates you._

_Munkus hates you._

_Demeter hates you._

_Old-mother hates you. That's why she left you._

A tear escapes, running down his cheek. He wipes it away with the back of his paw. He could still feel Tugger's blood on his face.

" _You're avoiding the question."_

Quaxo blinks. Vicky entwines her tail with his own, the touch enough to tether him back to reality. At least for now.

" _I'm fine."_

He's not.

" _You'd say that on your death bed."_

He would.

" _I'm just..."_ he trails off, batting away another wayward tear, "... _tired_."

That wasn't false. There was never a moment when he _wasn't_ tired. It had been...how long? Definitely more than a week. Less than a month. Since...that day.

(He wakes up enveloped in fur - warm and soft and familiar. He's in Jenny's den, surrounded by still bodies. Dead - _no, sleeping_ \- sleeping bodies. He hopes. Tugger and Jenny and Munkus and Demeter. Tugger stirs beneath him but doesn't wake, gauze wrapped tightly around his side. It smells like blood. He's _surrounded_ by blood. He's drowning in blood.

He's drowning.

Drowning.

Drowning.)

" _Quaxo!"_

Oh, right. She's still talking to him. She's...why couldn't she just let it go?

" _You just...zoned out."_

" _I told you, Vicky. I'm just tired. I promise."_

She frowns _. "Because you're not sleeping! Did you take the herbs that Jemmy gave you?"_

His chest had been hurting. Normally he would ignore such infirmities, one simply didn't have the time to stop dance practice if your ankles hurt or you are stricken with a sniffle. But this wasn't minor. Nor was it psychological.

His chest felt...tight, like someone was squeezing at his lungs. Every breath left him breathless - a k-n-i-f-e was lodging itself between his ribs and stabbing him when he had the audacity to inhale.

He had asked Jemima - _begged, more like_ \- to sneak him something to lessen the symptoms. Just enough to go unnoticed by Jelly and the other kittens.

" _But why don't you just ask Jen-"_

" _I...I can't. It's...I just can't..."_

" _...but what if you're really sick?"_

" _I'm not. And if I was, I'd tell you. And if I get worse, I'll also tell you."_

He was getting really good at lying.

And hiding. From Demeter, from Munkus...from Tugger.

_They hate you._

_They all hate you._

(He doesn't see Munkus come in. He is sleeping when he wakes the first time. He is talking when he wakes the second. With mother and Demeter - hushed voices, urgent and strained.

He can't hear them very well, not while pressed into Tugger's mane.

But he can hear enough.

" _Out of control..."_

" _...magic..."_

" _...how are we..."_

" _...dance..."_

" _...Quaxo..."_

" _...Macavity..."_

And his blood turns to ice.

And he runs.

And runs.

And runs.

And he doesn't look back.)

They keep trying to talk to him. To _corner_ him. But Quaxo is a magician, and he has gotten quite good at making himself scarce. To keep moving, to never stay in the same place for too long a time. Nursery at nighttime - Jelly doesn't take it well when other adults intrude after sun-down.

Don't cough up a lung. That's essential. Sick kittens mean attention, of which he was trying to avoid. But cold weather and alcohol and damp s-e-w-e-r-s make a fatal combination when trying to avoid having your body be infiltrated by p-a-t-h-o-g-e-n-s.

" _Are you listening? Did you take the herbs?"_

Did her frown get larger? Or was lack of sleep messing with his mental functions?

" _Yes."_

_No._

The herbs do help to ease the pain, just enough to let him slip into the realm of the unconscious for a few hours (if he was lucky.)

But herbs don't help the dreams. They don't help the blood and lightning and the tearing open of skin. And the _eyes_ \- red and bright and vicious, they taunt him.

No. _Beckon_ him.

Quaxo wonders whose eyes they belong to. He wonders why they look so...familiar.

No. He does not sleep.

He does, however, read. He learns to hide. How to make himself i-n-v-i-s-a-b-l-e and throw his voice around to confuse the seniors.

He dances when alone. Outside the junkyard when it is dark and the h-u-m-a-n-s are asleep.

He...exists. A soul without a purpose. Magic that he can't use. Magic that he can't control. A tribe that either hates him or will once they find out.

_If_ they find out.

("Munkustrap is looking for you."

"Oh."

"Oh?" Electra raises an eyebrow. "That's it?"

"Um...okay?"

"Are you avoiding him? Are you in trouble?"

"Something like that.")

It wasn't beyond the realm of possibility that his mentor was seeking him out to tell him to leave; to tell him that he hurt his brother and he was a danger to the tribe.

_Out of control_ , just like Macavity.

….or maybe to tell him that he didn't love him anymore (to tell him that he _never_ loved him in the first place.)

But he can't say any of that if Quaxo isn't around to say it to. Arguable logic, but it's been working so far.

Vicky sighs, squeezing his shoulder with her paw.

" _You'll tell Jemmy if it's getting worse, right? The cough?"_

" _I told her I would."_

" _Then go back to sleep. You don't have to move or anything. If sleeping next to me helps."_

" _I..."_

He's tempted. To try and ignore everything and lose himself in slumber. He only wishes it was that easy.

" _I'm going out."_

" _Out like...outside the junkyard?"_

" _Yeah. Just for a bit."_

" _But Jelly says it's supposed to snow again..."_

" _And I'll be back before it does._ _I just...I need to clear my head, okay?"_

He doesn't like lying to her, but the fibs leave his tongue (paws?) so often it almost feels ingrained. He doesn't know how long he'll be out there for. He just _can't_ be here.

" _I'm not going to try and stop you. But...please be careful, okay? And don't stay out too long."_

Quaxo nodded, nuzzling her cheek. He breathes in deep, focusing his power deep in his core. There are many things that can go wrong when t-e-l-e-p-o-r-t-i-n-g - more than once he ended up too high in the air and had a plethora of bruises to show for it. But he was getting better, improvement was inevitable when you had so much time to spare.

He feels the familiar tingling sensation, the rush of wind in his ears. It was...comforting almost. _Natural_.

And Quaxo was a being of routine.

He lands in the park, abandoned this late at night by the h-u-m-a-n-s. There is snow everywhere, remnants of the storm this morning. He could feel it under his paws, hard and icy on the ground. The weather was only going to get worse, he mustn't linger. Especially since he couldn't t-e-l-e-p-o-r-t back home, as convenient as that may be.

It bothered him, not being able to use magic to get back in the junkyard. He tried again after the unfortunate s-e-w-e-r incident, when he had plenty of magic to spare, just to be left with the same result. As if _something_ \- some wall or barrier, was preventing him from getting in.

No, it didn't just bother him. It was driving him nuts. The only thing that can prevent magic is more magic. Is there _another_ magician out there somewhere? Besides Macavity?

Quaxo sighed, he didn't have the time to dawdle. He stretches his legs and starts walking towards his favorite cluster of trees. Sure, he may have almost died there (twice) but he felt...connected to the place. It still bared the scars of his last meltdown, if the half-burned shrubbery were anything to go by.

He reaches it in a matter of minutes, and starts to climb his favorite tree - not the tallest by any means, but its branches were thick and twisted together, making it an ideal place to sit and contemplate. Of course, the climbing only serves to aggravate his infected chest even worse. He really should have eaten the soothing herbs, but he accidentally crushed his last batch and didn't want to ask Jemima prematurely for some more and raise suspicion.

So, he sits at the base. A minute passes, then another. It was...cold. _He_ was cold. This never used to bother him before, at least not to this extent. Because he had Tugger. Tugger, with his thick tail and fluffy mane that he loved to burrow himself in. He misses it, more then he could possibly imagine.

" _Is he awake?"_

" _No. I mean, he's really drugged out."_

" _Still?"_

_Jemima gives him a weak smile. A sympathetic smile._

" _Whatever got him, got him good. And it's only been a week. We can't risk moving him or he'll tear out his stitches. The catnip is for the pain, but it also makes him very sleepy."_

" _How long...I mean...until..."_

" _A couple of weeks, maybe. Until it's fully healed." Noticing the look on his face, she continues, "but the worst is over. I mean...he's stable enough for Jenny to leave me alone with him for a couple of hours."_

" _Can I...see him?"_

_Jemima smiles warmly at him. "Sure." A pause. "He's asks for you a lot, you know. Why haven't you visited him yet? Everyone else has."_

_There were many things he could have told her. Many things he wanted to tell her._

_So instead, he settled on nothing._

_He brushes past her and makes his way inside Jenny's den. Tugger is there, lying prone on the bed. Quaxo just watches for a second, making sure his chest rises and falls. Making sure he wasn't seeing a ghost. Jemima hangs by the door, only briefly, before allowing him a couple of minutes alone._

_He reaches out for his paw, hanging limp and loose off the medical bed. He could feel the tears in his eyes, the tears rolling down his cheeks. Tears that dampen the fur of the motionless Maine Coon beneath him._

" _I'm...so sorry, Tug," he whispers. "You don't have to forgive me. I..."_

_Was it getting really hard to breathe?_

" _I don't expect you to forgive me. I'll understand if you hate me and don't want to see me again. Because friends don't hurt each other. I'm not a very good friend, am I?"_

_He sniffles, squeezing Tugger's paw just a bit harder. Still, he doesn't move. No indication of wakefulness._

" _You are my best friend," he continues, trying to stop his voice from wavering. "My first friend. I..."_

_The 'I love you' dies on his tongue._

Quaxo doesn't see him again after that. He _can't_. He can't face him after what he did. He...doesn't _deserve_ Tugger.

Was he crying again? It makes sense, his face feels wet. He's crying alone at the base of a tree, and every sob is torturous - pain lashing through him as his lungs struggle to intake a sufficient level of oxygen.

' _p-n-e-u-m-o-n-i-a_

_an acute disease that is marked by inflammation of lung tissue accompanied by infiltration of_ _alveoli_ _and often_ _bronchioles_ _with white blood cells…'_

He read that in his d-i-c-t-i-o-n-a-r-y. Is that what he has? There are too many words, _big_ words that the h-u-m-a-n healers use. P-n-e-u-m-o-n-i-a can be fatal, though that's not always the case. Of course, he is not a h-u-m-a-n, which might make the whole argument moot in the first place.

Another cough rattles his bones. Quaxo doesn't try to get up, to walk back to camp.

He...doesn't want to.

There's some part of him - _some small part_ \- that thinks he deserves this. The pain.

R-e-t-r-i-b-u-t-i-o-n.

The snow starts falling again, a flurry. And still he sits. Time passes in a haze, his eyelids grow heavy - the thought of slumber enticing him into its grasp.

_(He knows it was dark. And cold and white – the white was everywhere. He had never been outside before._

_Mother carries him by the scruff._

_He squirms and squirms._

_He does not like being carried this way.)_

Quaxo drifts as the world turns into a white blur of barely discernible figures, all melting into one another in the background. It was beautiful, almost. Like a painting that the h-u-m-a-n-s would hang in their h-o-u-s-e.

_(He is not alone. He cries. No, they cry. Where did mother go? Is she coming back?_

_They are cold. They are tired. They are hungry.)_

He doesn't feel the cold anymore. A warmth flows through him. A _good_ warmth – a comfortable warmth. Cozy enough for him to settle back and close….

_(They run and run and run. They run until they can't. They curl up together, cries lost in the night air._

_There is a light – bright and blinding. It was not coming from him. It was coming from them. It surrounds them. Envelops them.)_

_("Don't close your eyes.")_

Quaxo blinks, jolting awake and almost slamming his head into the trunk of the tree. This wasn't… _no_. Those aren't _his_ memories. Was someone talking to him?

_(It is cold outside, but they are warm. It is dark outside, but they are light._

_They are not as they were before._

_They are one.)_

It was entirely possible – _more than likely_ – that he was going insane. That whatever remnants of his sanity were slowly ebbing away, leaving an empty shell of confusion and contradiction.

_("Run. You mustn't stay here.")_

Was he….hallucinating? Where did the voice come from?

_("He will find you.")_

"Who?" Quaxo asks futilely in the night. "Who will find me? Who is talking to me?"

_("You are.")_

His heart feels like it was pounding out of his chest. There are things about his past that he doesn't know, that he was too young to comprehend. Memories are fleeting – old-mother, and r-u-n-t, and crying and anger.

And….and….there was something else, buried just deep enough that it was outside his grasp. Or was it just his _conscious_ grasp?

"Are you…." he struggles briefly, trying to remember the name that Tugger relayed to him that night, "Mistoffelees?"

_("I am you.")_

"But…if you are me, then how are you talking to me? Are those your memories or mine? Are you real or…are you just in my head?"

_("Why can't I be real if I am in your head?")_

"But…that doesn't make…." he's breathing a bit _too_ heavily now, breathes turn into gasps that turn into coughs. Full body coughs that reverberate through his whole frame. He feels something warm and metallic fill his mouth, dribbling down his chin.

Oh, this was _bad._

Maybe he should have just gone to his mother. Maybe he should have stopped hiding from them like a c-o-w-a-r-d. Because there is a real possibility now that he isn't going to make it home.

_("He is coming.")_

Maybe…maybe this is what they wanted in the first place. He sinks back towards the ground – towards the ice and snow that burn and tear at his paws. He squeezes his eyes shut and hopes that whatever will be the first to kill him takes him quickly.

_("He is coming.")_

He wonders if Tugger will say goodbye to him. He wonders if they'll ever think to look for him. He wonders if they care enough.

_("He is here.")_

"Wake up."

Was that...? Quaxo blinks open his heavy eyes, struggling to his paws.

_("He is here.")_

That was a voice. A _real_ voice, not the one in his head. No. No, it _couldn't_ be. He would have heard if another cat was approaching. There are leaves and sticks and other objects all over the ground beneath him.

"Turn around."

He could feel his heart drop to his stomach. All of his senses say to run away. Quaxo does not like strange cats – _unfamiliar_ cats. But something about his _voice_ ….against his better judgement, he turns.

_("He will find you.")_

And before him stood…. a cat. A ginger cat. A _wild_ cat. Whose eyes - red and bright and so _achingly familiar_ , were trained directly on him.


End file.
